"For you? I'd hold the skies on my shoulders, if it came down to it."
*****
He didn't think she'd ever look his way. Let alone, stumble into him- and into his life. But all things happen for a reason, and sometimes- when you love someone from afar...
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I DON'T FEEL good. I feel sick.
It feels like there's a big lump in my throat that doesn't seem to be budging.
What did I do wrong? What did I do wrong?
What's playing in my mind over and over again, is that one moment when he disappeared from my sight.
That one moment, when my shoulders slumped and I stared down at my feet while a feeling hit me like a ton of bricks.
Defeat. Pure and utter defeat.
This is what the world was like, at least to me. I wish I was detached from it all, because then- maybe I wouldn't feel this horrible every time something like this happened.
That was the thing about people. If you invested too much emotion in them, at some point, most of them tend to let you down.
I don't know what to think. Why did I mess up?
Was there even something to mess up in the first place? I had never really known why he had started to hang around me. Eventually I had brushed it off assuming the reason would have been valid enough. Was it though?
Why was I like this? Someone had shown me a shred of care, and I had romanticized it?
What was wrong with me?
This feeling right now- the fact that sometimes I tended to care more about others than they'd ever care about me, has to be one of the loneliest things in the world.
Even as I'm walking to the bus stop, I'm hardly aware of my surroundings. I can't help but think about what happened over and over again.
"Miss?"
I blink slowly, unsure if I had actually heard something.
"Miss?"
I turn around, in the direction of the rough voice.
An old homeless man smiles up at me, a little sheepish.
"Any spare change, miss?" he asks, " Haven't had a meal since the day b'fore yesterday."
"I'm-" embarrassingly enough, my voice cracks- but I force myself to continue, "I'm sorry, I don't have any money."
"Oh," his face falls, and I feel worse than I'm already feeling. The man, bless his soul, gives me a reassuring grin, "No worries, Miss. I wish you a pleasant evening."
I let out a little breath, wishing with all my heart that I could do something to help him.
And then, my eyes flicker down to the little cardboard box in my hands.
The one with the red velvet cupcakes- the ones that took nearly three tries, the ones with the little red sprinkles, the ones that I had made for him- and for a moment there, my heart breaks. It really does.
