He sat on his table, alone. Weeping silently. His body shake with anger, every breath that he take was so heavy, he start to think that the air surround him was more dense. Like in Jupiter. There's nothing light contain in the air. he feels like he put sand into his lunge in every breath he takes. He's dying.
He's try to remember how everything start. He decided to put two feet into some pool that he thought was familiar.
he decided to try again. To be with someone, to start love again. To trust, to believe.
He want to try to be spontaneous this time. It's not his character to be spontaneous. He's always a man who take many things to the line of perfection. It's would kill him to see something imperfect. So he'll make sure every single thing should be perfect. As perfect as he wants. Even it takes time, even if it's inconvenient, even if it's make him hurt. Even if it's hurt.
He remembered the way she smiled.
He remember that It was so perfect, almost, almost perfect that he couldn't be more sure about her. It was so good, before he realized that there must be something wrong. It's just to good to be true. Then the pool feel no longer familiar to his feet. It start to feel a little bit too hot. Or too peaky. Or to blue. Once he found a flaw, he start to find it everywhere.
Then, he told himself : " See? I knew that would be something wrong, I knew it. I just knew."
From that moment, his fear grew more and more. He likes to know that he could handle everything, so he prepared for the worst. He prepared his step. calculate every inch of his move. He make a mind mapping of "what-if" scenario in his head. He thought a lot, he want to be sure he didn't miss anything. He thought for the worst and didn't even think about the other scenario. The happy ending one. For him, happy ending only exist in fairy tale. Even if it does happen, happy ending is not for him. He wants it but didn' t feel he deserves it. So he let go the idea of it years ago.
He still could smell her scent all over his blanket.
He know he would end this sooner or later. He have too. Before he gets all wet, before he decide not just to put both of his feet, but jump straight into this pool. Before he realize everything.
He sat on his table, alone. Weeping silently. He was right, right? He's not really sure, but he's always right. He have to be right. It's the only way. It's the way he proved himself that he's perfect. By never be wrong.
He already get used to feel pain. To hold it, repressed it, get used to become numb and feel nothing. So when he sat and weeping, alone, he's can't stop wondering.
If it's the right thing to do, why did he feel so.. hurt? Why did he cry? Why he regret everything?
He take a really heavy deep breath, feel a weight of the world feel his lungs.
he can't be like this forever. Either he admit he was wrong, or he deal with the pain.
He can't decide now, not at this time. Not when he's not sure.
Because perfections comes along with the fear of being wrong.
Label: cerpen, Short Fiction
