Maybe Life Lies Elsewhere (3)

Stop being dramatic. God. And you’re thinking too much again. His mind keeps racing. Wayne can’t stop himself from revisiting remembrances of their time together, further basking his fragility in torturous territory. He remembers the time B told him they’re curious what it’s like living life so intensely and emotionally like Wayne does, thinking deeply and feeling broadly. Nobody ever said that to him, and it made him stop for the first time and truly think about it. About how boring it would probably be to live life any other way, but how it also comes back around to bite him in the butt sometimes. About how B even came up with that, how they noticed and how it made Wayne love them even more. About how now, he’s at a point in his life where he either feels too much or too little, but never contempt, never peaceful. Just existing when he feels too little, and being overwhelmed and unable to go about his day when he feels too much. Both sound pretty shitty to Wayne. B never shied away, didn’t step back when Wayne felt too much again. Instead, they expressed their appreciation about it to him.
He snorts and gulps down the last few drops of the rather less enjoyable coffee from the cafeteria he’s been drinking for a week now. It seemed to have burnt the tip of his tongue earlier. Maybe he was exaggerating. Delusional once again. Still too much in love which makes him nurture his aversion to paint and present B to himself any different in his memory than he does now. Maybe he will laugh about these thoughts in the future. Wayne doesn’t even know whether he wants this kind of future to be near and happen as soon as possible so he can look at this a little more lighthearted. Doesn’t even know whether at some point in the future, he would like to think of this as just another heartbreak people experience in their lives, even though it will probably end up being exactly that. But he’s not sure, because he would like a memory like that to never fade into something that can be laughed at or dismissed as stupid lovesickness but secretly make him punish himself for feeling like that. Maybe that’s stupid and romanticizing, but Wayne doesn’t care. He knows it will eventually hurt less and less with every passing sunrise, that he’s already survived slumps he thought he’d never get out of. But all he wants to find is peace, peace with having the person you love and the time you spent together only exist in form of a memory now, how it makes him want to cry so much he wants to pull out his brain and heart and toss it on the floor together with his limp body until all of this is over. Peace with a memory that makes his mind describe it with words and symbols in such various ways unbeknownst to Wayne it beautifully hurts, peace with not having the right bandaids for that kind of ache. A memory he doesn’t know if he hates or treasures, or both. Peace with that for now, this memory will probably keep invading all rooms on the floor that is called “The idiot Wayne” in the skyscraper called “The earth’s stupid population”, feeding dark little snacks to the abyss inside him. Wants to find a thread he can hold on to, not only to move on from this but also to carefully step forward in life. He will take every form the thread chooses to present itself to Wayne, because at this point, he thinks, he’s slowly but surely running out of willpower and strength to keep looking for it with all the weapons his second warzone bears to him.