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By Luca Limbach
May 23, 1998
It was all my fault. I didn’t mean to make her leave. I didn’t mean to hurt her damaged, yet innocent heart once more. With the blink of an eye she was gone, and that all because the selfish person that I was couldn’t keep the promise that I had pledged to maintain forever. Now I was stuck. Lost between the silence of my bitterly dark apartment and the heartache that arose within seconds of her departure. It was the day of May 23, 1998 that remained unforgettable to me and hopefully her. I sat quietly in the darkest, loneliest corner of the room, staring out the window into the gray sky that was covered in dust from the guns that were illegally used, not knowing what would strike next. Boom, boom, boom. Three shots were fired in the once astonishing and beautiful city of Los Angeles, California, where it was not uncommon to hear gunshots, especially in the area that my apartment was located. With the last bit of energy that dwelled in me I lifted myself off the ground and trotted into the kitchen where usually she would’ve waited for me at this time of night. The night of May 23, might have been one of the darkest nights of my life. Not just my life, but also hers. After 20 minutes of staring into blank space I meandered through the hall in my run down apartment that looked like it went on forever. It reminded me of everlasting hope; something I could not relate to. If love and hope were a real thing I wouldn’t have been fired from the pub next door. I wouldn’t be sitting in this exact apartment in the middle of the ghetto of Los Angeles. I wouldn’t be feeling ashamed of who I am and what I have become because the opposite of my life was what defined love. What was she doing right now? Was she thinking of me and all the great memories we had together? Was she trying to make sense of everything that just happened? Was she the happiest she has ever been now that I’m gone? I questioned myself. I had no clue, so I decided it would be mentally and physically best for me to lay down for a nap. Steadily, my eyes became heavier with every breath I took and soon all I could see was darkness. What felt like ten minutes was a solid four hours in real life. I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock blasting into my ears. With my bed soaked in sweat and my hands shaking like there was no tomorrow, I spotted a shadow peacefully stretching to the sound of the birds chirping in the corner of my eye. A female voice softly uttered the words “good morning” as I realized I was living in reality again.