Burnout

II. ONE

Thoughts race through my mind.

I'm sitting with my guitar. I'll write her one more fucking song. That is all I am going to give to her. Then again, that is all she deserves, and that is all I need.

Nothing.

Nothing appeared on my screen. I sat there completely impotent. I can't think. Every time I see her face, I see regret. I see anger. It is something I cannot take back. Those words. That night.

Something.

Anything.

Her face.

It haunts me.

My dreams.

My thoughts if I had any worth mentioning.

She was my rock. I leaned on her and she leaned on me. I actually meant something to someone and she meant something to me. Her smile brought me joy. Her presence illuminated the room.

I don't know where I belong. I don't really even know why she gave a shit about me. People treated her like shit. I guess I didn't. That is probably why she liked me.

The song begins to write itself. I don't even need to do anything. She is going to get her one final song.

She left me exactly eight years ago and I would do anything to forget how she left.

I don't know who else to blame. I mean, I take responsibility because that is how life works.