Knock, knock...

The door slams. She's gone. But how gone is she really? She's done this before, but it seemed so real this time. Maybe it really is over. Could it be? This time it certainly felt real. Isn't that what he wanted? No. No, he loved her. But what does that matter anymore? She's gone for good. He really messed up this time. He doesn't care that much, it was important but it's gone out the window, along with his stereo and TV. If he knows it's over then why does he feel so bad? She must have been more then either of them thought. It's okay he thinks he can do just fine without her. We will see.

So what, it's been like three weeks now? She really isn't coming back. And to top it off she had her phone disconnected. He looks pretty bummed about it all. Well he said he could deal without her, he's probably just a little lonely. He should get over it once he starts going out again. But until then he'll just be pouting around for a while. Maybe he could go out and get another TV and stereo.

She moved north, back with her parents. She's taking it a little better then him, she's moving on. Yeah but what a jerk he's been, hasn't even tried to call her. She'll probably give him a call in the next few weeks. She's trying to hide her emotion, she does it well, but it's still eating her up inside. Sometimes only time can heal. Or maybe she needs to talk to him.

He's still no better. He did started going to bars, but even then he just drinks until they kick him out. Maybe he'll meet someone. No, he refuses to talk to anyone. Not even his parents. Why don't you think he's coping with it that well? He must have loved her more then they either knew. She still hasn't contacted him. Then again he stopped trying to get a hold of her. Well what can you do when someone is avoiding you?

This is the third guy she's been with this week. Yeah, she really can't seem to fill that place that he was taking up. He's a jerk but he was the best jerk that ever happened to her. He never answers his phone. I don't blame him; she wasn't the nicest person when she left.

He slowly opens his wallet, as the Velcro comes apart two slightly weathered razor blades fall to the table. He can't take it anymore; the countless shots of Yeagermeister have lost their effect long ago. He picks up one of the razor blades and actually thinks about sterilizing it with a lighter. He laughs. At a time like this he still thinks about things that don't matter. But what truly matters in this life? Slowly he presses the blade into his mid forearm. It's so stupid how the media thinks you cut across, that is more for pain then anything. As his hand is trembling he presses harder and slowly pulls the blade toward his wrist, toward the little black X. How funny that after all this time he still keeps it there. Blood slowly starts to pour out of his wound as he fingers the razor blade contemplating the other arm. It's been a full ten minutes now, it's seemed like an hour, there are two knocks on the door. It's too late he's closed his eyes.

She walks up to the apartment door; it's been three months now she hopes he still lives there. She raises her hand to knock; as she does she starts to think of the last time she was there. The last time she slammed the door. Slowly all the memories flood back into her mind, all the good times she had with him, all the times she woke up in his arms. She cries. She slowly gathers herself together and knocks twice on the door. She always did, it was kind of the way he could know it was her. She waits for what seems like an hour, but there is never a response.