Broken Down

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I'm good at starting stories but not so much finishing it so if I could get ideas that would be helpful :D

1. help

Despite the usual bombardment of children overrunning the park, it had become eerily silent. Leaves rustled as the swift wind dragged them around the marginalised spruce trees in a forest of oak. Embers distinguished as I pressed down on the charred cigar underneath the boot of my shoe. Whispers flowed from the one remaining couple in the corner of the park. Sitting at the rusty bench that once sustained the weight of myself alongside the other half of me. The side that had left me for my flaws. The both of them sat hand in hand under a blanket that shielded them from the chill that pierced at my bare skin. The couple that no one knew was a thing yet held more sturdy than the ass of a relationship I had failed to keep up. His ironed jumper withheld his name as well as the woman, who’s hair he had now begun to caress. They weren’t here as often as I yet the way they interacted was domestic to every other day they would turn up hand in hand. Small flashbacks and memories would flood back upon their appearance. Tears started to build at the corners of my eye. The small teardrop slid down from my bloodshot eyes, down my cheek and cling onto the trembling end of my lip. As the couple got up to leave, I felt a gentle palm on the shoulder of my leather bomber jacket. I didn’t have to look up to recognise who the gesture had come from. I wish I could be like the others and say that I spend my days partying but I can’t. I’ve spent the last few years puffing away and crying over the once euphoric couple that looked back at me on my phone.

 

“hey, get up”

 

I don’t have a doubt on my mind that I would’ve passed away a long long time ago. Constantly drowning in a sea of melancholy and solitude, struggling to breathe as fumes invaded every inch of my lungs and paralysing my pulsating veins that ran all along my body. But even a nightmare has to end eventually. Alike the concept of the light at the end of the tunnel, she had been there to pull me out. Slap me and bring me back to my senses. I rose to my feet and sprung into her hands. Being born into the male gender, it was always expected of me to suppress my emotions, hold back my tears and preserve through hard times cause crying isn’t manly. It doesn’t mean I didn’t abide by the social constructs set for me. I watched silently as my parents passed by one after another. My only brother following closely behind me. Everyone leaving one by one until I’m brought to this one moment. Nothing left for me. No riches, no attachments. The one person who bothered to stick around watched as I crumbled before her. Each piece of my life cracking and shattering before her. Yet I held on, the hood of my jacket covering my head from the droplets that rained above our heads. At that one moment as I clenched back the tears that pricked my eyes, I felt the grip she had on my jacket loosening as I pulled away. The only friend I had left. I pulled away and dabbed at the water building in the corner of my eyes. I scanned her outfit until I came to look her in the eye.

 

It wasn’t a look of disgust but that of pity and it killed...

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