Questions or When Cliches are true

A short story I typed up just to show that I am still writing. Next time It'll be another post to the Horror/Romance story. I have been working on it but it's not ready for posting yet, shouldn't be too much longer though. In the meantime I present you with the following little ficlet.

"Questions" or "When Clichés are true."

It started with a kiss, but doesn’t it always?

I knew from the moment his lips touched mine, but doesn’t everyone?

How do you know if what your feeling is real when it all seems to be one big cliché?

I know that’s a lot of questions to ask, and difficult questions at that, but I’m so confused about what’s happening in my life that I really don’t know what to do. Every time I try to express how I’m feeling it just comes out being so corny and clichéd that I honestly wonder if what I’m feeling is real or if it’s just wishful thinking brought on by reading to many romance novels.

When did life become so difficult?

I guess the problem lies in the fact that I’ve only been single for a few months. It’s March and my ex and I broke up in December. It was a long time coming, but then we were together for a long time so it was still quite difficult in the end. He was really terrible to me and dragged my self esteem down in ways I would never have imagined possible. When I was a little girl I used to think I was so strong and so powerful, I could do anything I wanted, I was going to be a doctor, or a journalist, or a scientist, I never imagined I would go as low as I did. I never imagined I would become a drug addict.

Where did that strong, smart little girl go?

Don’t get me wrong I was never on heroine or cocaine or anything strong like that, I’ve always had a rule about chemical drugs. Thank goodness for the rule about chemical drugs, or it would have been even worse. Marijuana can be just as detrimental, it’s a depressant and when your circumstances are already pretty bad downers are really not what you need. So I was depressed, and with a guy who had been treating me like crap for years, life was pretty terrible.

Will I ever forget the night we broke up?

He’d gone out without me, again. He’d taken another girl out and left me at home, alone, to smoke myself into depression, again. When one of my girlfriends called me,
‘Is he there?’
‘No’
‘Good, I’m coming to get you.’

Can I ever thank her enough for saving me from myself?

When he came home and I wasn’t there he called me in a rage.
‘Where the hell are you?’ He screamed at me down the telephone.
‘Out with my friend.’ I replied trying to stay calm, ‘You went out without me.’ I couldn’t help but add somewhat bitterly.
‘So? You fucking knew where I was going, you should have called me and told me you were fucking going out. And who the fuck are you with?’ He wouldn’t stop screaming and I started crying.
‘I’m with Mona.’ I said my voice as small as my self esteem.
‘Well get your ass home right now Lisa or we’re through.’

Is there anyway he could have been more of a jerk?

‘Well I guess we’re through then.’ I answered back amazingly finding a shred of dignity.
‘What?’ he sounded surprised, imagine that.
‘I said we’re through.’ It was a lot easier saying it the second time.
‘What do you mean?’ he sounded confused, like he didn’t understand what was happening. Truthfully he probably didn’t understand, he really was that arrogant.
‘You know exactly what I mean Alex. I’ve had enough. It’s over, I’ll come by tomorrow and get my stuff.’ And then I hung up.

Could I have been any clearer about what I meant?

I moved out and spent the next for months being fabulous. I got dressed up in tight clothes and went dancing till four am, I kissed random hot guys on the dance floors of crowed nightclubs, and I loved every minute of my new found freedom. It was like being born again, and I was like a child. None of it meant anything, and the next morning all I had for my trouble was a bad hangover, sore feet and a lingering sense of guilt that what I was doing wasn’t right. I knew I had to stop it, I knew that the new behaviour was just as destructive as the old but I thought I had all the time in the world.

Does love ever strike when you expect it to?

Then university started up again and, as a reward for breaking things off with my terrible ex, my parents paid for me to live on campus for the year. That’s where I met him. I think they were hoping I’d meet a nice university boy and get my shit together and it worked. He was nice, maybe too nice. He seemed like everything I’d ever dreamed of, and here we are back at the clichés again. He was smart, well groomed, well mannered and handsome and he seemed to like me. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him that he was the one I wanted.

Is love at first sight even possible?

All the clichés all happening at once, he confessed that he thought I was out of his league, that I was too good looking for him. He made me feel shy and coy yet at the same time helplessly flirtatious. I couldn’t resist him and as much as I told myself it was too soon for another relationship, and I knew that’s what I wanted with him, I couldn’t stop myself. He was so infatuated with me and so inexperienced with girls in general, he’d gone to an all boys school, that I couldn’t help but respond to him.

Has there ever been anything more appealing than a cute shy guy who is hopelessly infatuated with you?

We looked into each others eyes and everything else melted away. I was drowning in the depths of his clear blue eyes. I could see the desire plainly written across his face. He leaned in to kiss me and I was powerless to resist. When his lips touched mine for the first time it was as though an electric spark jumped between us. His lips were soft and warm and gentle and I felt safe and secure in his arms. When we broke apart and gazed into each others eyes we both knew that it was love, the kind that lasts forever.

Can I help it if the clichés were true?