conditional love. Love definitely wasn’t something I had, nor wanted. I remember, one of my longest lasting relationships was with a girl who for a long time I actually believed that I loved. I quickly came to my senses, though, and realized that either she was using me for her gain or she was dumb. I had and still have absolutely nothing to offer to anyone, except for my evident top notch personality. That was sarcasm, if you didn’t catch on. Love is overrated. By this point, I had thought enough. Probably entirely too much.. I looked back at my clock. It read 6:38. Only eight fucking minutes. In a desperate bid to pass some more time, I decided I’d give in and get ready for school. It’s funny, you know, how all we have in our lives is time, but we’re always in a constant attempt to get rid of that time. Be it by reading, writing, watching television, playing games, we always want our time to pass. I think that in order for us to advance as a people we need to learn to utilize our time and make a difference. Try thinking for once instead of just allowing our time to flow into useless addictions. Then again, who am I to talk. Well, back to my daily routine, I suppose. The first step is always to shower, so that’s what I did. As I turned the water on, I saw again the true freedom of water. All it did was fall, then it got to go anywhere. Maybe that’s the deep allegory to life I keep implying at. Maybe we’re all meant to fall, then after we hit rock bottom, we’re finally allowed to flow free. Or maybe that’s all bullshit too and I’m grasping at straws to make sense of my nonsensical life. Who knows? Regardless, I stepped into the cold water and thought some more. Not about anything in particular, just some writing prompts to stories that will never be told and lyrics to a song that’ll never be sung. Then I made the mistake of looking down to my legs. I saw my thighs, my scars, my truest signs of weakness. Although the scars were most definitely fading, they were still entirely too visible. I still regret making them and I can’t believe nor forgive myself for ever being so weak. Sure, I was sad but why bring pain to oneself? Isn’t pain inherently sad? Too deep for me. I got out of the shower, not because I was done but because I was only merely starting. Through my short life, one of the fews things I’ve learned is that if you give in to your thoughts for even a second, they’ll plague you forever. So I dried my body off instead. The next step was to brush my hair and teeth. So, I grabbed my toothbrush and my comb and looked into the mirror. There I saw her. Not her, me. I looked like shit. My skin was beyond pale, almost translucent to the point where I could see my veins creeping across my face and into my neck and beyond. My naturally brunette hair had countless gray hairs in it, all over like a plague running across the world. My eyes were sunken into my face, at least two inches too far. Worst of all, though, were the tears draining from my eyes. I didn’t even realize. I guess I was just used to crying by now. No, I had never actually seen myself cry. But after what had just happened, I didn’t blame me.
The Nabu Review is an online biannual fiction magazine that publishes five to ten authors per issue.