WRONG FOR LOVE.

Chapter: 1.

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Drowning.

Soft music resounded throughout a dirty dark singled room apartment. Emptied beer bottles littered the dusty rug that hasn't been swept in weeks. The smell of booze smoldered the air and without an escape, they stayed trapped floating in circles of a never-ending whirlwind of miasma. A half-cracked television sat on a short stool, two lovers danced in the brightness of the soundless television.

Useless.

Half-eaten boxes of Chinese and pizza lay about the entire place The smell of rot and decay corrupted the once freshened air. Silverware and mud-damped boots were bestrewn all over the carpet and the wooden floor, the mud sticking to places in-between cracks in the woods that may never be cleaned.

Worthless.

The lights in the bathroom flickered steadily, its constant flashes made the occupant of the cluttered restroom sigh in frustration, his eyes blinked but remained closed. Closed to the world he wanted nothing to do with anymore. Closed to its madness and chaos. Closed to its pollution and inhumanity. Closed to his miserable existence, his run-down apartment, and his worthlessness.

Hopeless.

A vibration accompanied by an annoyingly loud tone filled the man's ears and he flinched as if hit in the head with a crowbar. He ignored it like he had been doing the past four days. It's not like anything good ever comes out of those damned calls. It could either be his wife, demanding child's support and cursing him out for being the laziest man on earth or his mother calling to tell him his father had fallen off the stairs again and was in a coma or it would be his boss who had fired him four days ago or the landlady demanding her rent or the bank reminding him of his unpaid loans. Another vibration followed just after the first had ended and the man tossed in his bathtub, white knuckles clung to the slippery edges as he tried to get a grip and stand up. He succeeded after the third try and finally, he hauled himself out of the water, damp clothes clung to his wet body like a second skin. Slowly he staggered out of the tiny restroom and into his shabby-looking mess of a living room.

"Wow."

He breathed out as he took in the look of the room he had unconsciously slept in the last couple of days.

Has it always been this messy?

He wondered. A loud huff and he blew carbon dioxide out of his gaping mouth. The music still played through the radio and he wanted that shut off immediately, the sound was starting to irritate his eardrums. But he felt too lazy to walk towards the radio instead he looked within his reach and found a pair of shoes, he picked one up and tossed it towards the radio, it did the job as it knocked the gadget off the table and brought it crashing onto the ground, a few pieces and parts of the radio flying about.

Another property was destroyed, not like he could afford a new one. At this point, he might as well go back to his good days of living in his beat-up truck.

Once the radio was destroyed he rubbed a wet palm over his eyes, for a moment there he wondered what he was even doing standing around. He thought something had brought him out of his self-proclaimed pity bathtub pool. He couldn't remember what it was. Angry now, he turned to head back into the bathroom when his phone began to vibrate again.

"Stupid fuck." He cussed, and hurriedly walked towards the bed, it didn't look any different from the rest of the room, the sheets were piled up on the floor, the pillows laying about but his phone was right there in the middle of the bed so he picked it up and sat slumped into the mattress, wet clothes and all.

"What?!" He snapped into the phone without even looking to see who had called.

"Geez, hello to you too, Xander, what the fuck man, is this a new way of receiving calls now?" The other yelled, defeating the first attacker as he heard him inhale sharply then slowly release.

"I'm sorry, East, I didn't think you would be on the line." He apologized, rubbing his eyes again, they were going to be all red and puffy by the time he was finished with the phone call.

"You didn't even look to see who was calling?" The other asked and he didn't miss another intake of breath. "God, Xander, what the fuck are you doing to yourself. You need to get out of that apartment, get out and just breathe, this isn't the end of the world. When one falls, you get up and try, try again, you're the one who taught me that, can't you apply that same principle into your life at this point in time, huh?"

That's the thing.

That one simple thing and yet people tend to miss it.

Just because you're always often strong for everyone else, always tend to have the right answers, the right words, and advice, and somehow manage to lift them off their burdens doesn't necessarily mean you're an expert on the matter nor does it guarantee a shield to any situations you might encounter. As a matter of fact, it is those who tend to be there for everyone, the same are those who lack the ability to have anyone be there for them when the tables are turned. They laugh with you when you're happy and cry with you when you're hurting. But, when they hurt, they are often found running away from the world and locking themselves up so they can cry alone. Because they understood the feeling all too well and they wouldn't want to burden another with it.

"You lost your job and just like always, you've pushed me aside, come on, bro, I don't want to see you go through this again."

Well, it's not like life has given him many choices to pick from. At this point, he has only one life choice, be miserable because every time he tries to be anything more, it comes crashing down his face, each time wrecking him harder than he had sunk before.

There is no break for the living.

Yet it's never better if you're dead either.

He hadn't always been this miserable. He was once a happily married man to his high school sweetheart Maria. She had promised him a forever but she turned back and took his forever and now he is left floating amidst an endless void of damnation. To think that he dropped out of school, got a job early to pay for her tuition, helped her achieve her goals of owing her degrees in Business Administration and once she was out of school she thought she was better than him.

Where had the love gone?

He sacrificed everything for her. Gave up his education, his happiness, his youth, and for what? A never-ending feast of heartache and misery. At first, she had taken his cheap ring, she had called it cheap and slapped him with it that night but once upon a time, she had accepted that ring with happiness and laughter. She had promised to be there for him as he had been. He got a promotion at his job, having worked there for nearly five years. He was promoted as manager, he got better pay, and he was going to begin saving to get back to school, maybe per time.

But, Maria came and broke that future before it had even taken form. Once again she had pressed that merciless pause button and his future was on hold yet again. She had given him the news of their first child. He was happy, she was happy, or so he had thought.

For Maria he was selfless. He loved her above life and any other. Maybe he deserved what he got. But even until now, he still doesn't have regrets about what he did for her. He wanted to hate her. Would it be wrong if he did? She was all he had and she tossed him aside like he didn't matter, never mattered.

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