“So it’s true.”, he thought,” it’s really true.” As he gazed across the crowded intersection, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He’d been denying it for a while; ignoring everyone’s comments; saying it couldn’t be true, but there it was, right in front of him. It was just staring him down, until he lost sense of his surroundings. With one look, on simple moment, he saw what would ruin his life. He began to think, “What if I’d never turned that corner? A minute ago my life had meaning, the world was a good place and now, with one right turn down the street, my world is nothing. Why did I have to go right? Why didn’t I just go left? Would it have mattered which way I turned? Eventually I would’ve found out and my life would still be ruined,” and as he kept contemplating what had just happened, he found himself turning around to go back. “It’s true and yet, it cannot be true,” he kept mumbling to himself down the street. He got to his apartment, opened the door, and saw his used-to-be life staring at him, almost as though it was gloating. While he gazed into his used-to-be life, he got over the shock, and became angry. Slowly but surely, he became more and more infuriated with his new life. He couldn’t take it anymore and began smashing his life into little, tiny pieces.
While staring at the mangled up rubble that used to be his hand, he realized what he had done; what he had seen. The fact that he had gone numb on the inside didn’t stop him from curling up into a little ball on the floor and crying himself away from all pain. All he had left in his life was the memory of what used to be, smashed to bits and pieces. All he had left in his life was the sight of pure, adulterated spite that changed his life forever. Both are just pictures now. They are simply pictures of the past, with no glimpse of a future. He began to calm himself and realize everything that had happened in those few moments of life. Looking at the crumbled up life he’d created was worse than remembering the actual breaking point. Looking at the torn, broken, used to be picture in a frame, was worse than looking into his torn, broken, used to be life. He got himself up and grabbed the matches from the cabinet. He figured, watching the picture of him and his wife burn away into nothing would be the best thing for his conscious. He stared at the reddish orange flames, growing larger and larger, as his memory grew smaller and smaller, until the flames had gone away into nothing but ashes. He had successfully burned away the picture that taunted him, but he couldn’t get rid of the picture that still haunted him. That picture of his wife and brother, together; walking down the street, arm in arm. The memory of seeing his brother whisper, what he knew to be sweet nothings, into his wife’s ear. Watching his wife push a dagger into his own heart with one simple kiss on his brother’s lips, will always stay with him. He couldn’t accept it. He refused to accept this as his new life. Without really thinking, he thought about it. He realized that he couldn’t truly live again until it all disappeared. Without hesitation he knew he had to go to extremes. Burning one picture wasn’t going to help anything; he had to burn it all. As he slowly felt himself burn away with everything in his apartment he thought, “So it’s true. It’s really true.”
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