I was actually getting sober after a long night out with friends when a man came up to me offering cannabis. Had I waited for a little longer I would have never bought the grass that would change my life.
It took a while, but she finally wrote what she needed to say: “I love you, and I forgive you.”
And then she burned the letter.
“You keep on your sunglasses, your colors do not match, you walk like a wimp. I regret I responded to your ad.”
“Honestly, I’m blind.”
It came to me in a dream. I’ve regretted ever since that I wasn’t sleeping at the time; it never came again.
I had always imagined blazing hot flames, whips and chains, and one hundred tons of pure, physical pain. But if I had known that hell was going to consist of watching over and over again the thing I did to you… well, this is far worse than the punishment I had imagined – and there’s no way to go back.
When we talked we both could tell we liked each other. The only thing that stopped us was ourselves.
You died in my arms. I died in yours a hundred times.
My hobbies include remembering happier times, imagining a successful version of me attending our high school reunion and hoping we find alien life before I die.
C’mon Mars Rover, you can do it!
She looked stunning in her white wedding dress, the flowing train shimmering under the morning sunlight.
If only he had treasured that five years ago.
After they caught me, they buried me in a bowling lane with only my head on the surface, sitting amongst the pins. I try to close my eyes, but I can’t, because I recognize the ball coming towards me and I can see that it wishes there was somewhere else it could go.
On our anniversary.
You’re with someone not me.
So I should have kissed you.
This has only happened a billion times.
Everyone makes one mistake.
Perhaps you were mine.
After all my years in poverty I decided to get real and expose myself.
Now I’m rich, shivering and cold and wishing I could take it all back.
Sex never even crossed my mind, until two
hours and four beers later, you said I love you. Oh well.
Afraid is the man who keeps to himself his life as if guarded… who keeps social togetherness at arm’s length… and who stares at his shoes wondering where and when it all went wrong, mumbling to himself about times that should have been. Terrified is he who journeys back in time to change what was (if only in his mind) into what should have been, thus living a life aberrant to the original plan.