| Ok, let me say something about this little story/fic thing. It is called Tears Down the Wall for no particular reason. I wrote it for English Pre AP, to enter in a reflections contest. When I finished writing it I read over it and it seemed to fit Savage Garden, even though I was kind of writing off a guy I know and am in absolute adoration of when I said the guy could play piano and keyboard and guitar and write music and such, and the fact that they aren't in America just has to do with my complex of wanting to get out of America. I suppose this fic thing just turned into an SG fic because I've been listening to them a lot lately. Anyways...it's angsty because I am right now. It's from Daniel's POV I guess...about Darren. Slightly AU once I think about it. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lately I’ve felt out of place. I’m in my ‘hometown’. I have a huge house. I’m at comfortable point financially, not rich, not poor. On the outside everyone sees someone who has everything. On the inside I’m nothing, I have nothing, and I long for everything. My soul is empty and aching to have emotion to fill it. The problem with that is the fact that I just have no emotion to put into it. Music, which was once my life and the very blood that pumped through my veins, that kept me living, is now nothing to me but notes coordinated on a sheet of paper. It all just blurs and smudges into nothingness when my eyes look upon it. This place that used to feel like home now feels strange and uncomfortable to me. I feel awkward even walking into my own bedroom. I walk past my guitars, my piano, my assortment of keyboards, all sitting in the room I have set aside in my three bedroom home as nothing but an instrument holder. It houses my music notes, my sheet music, all my instruments and all my creativity. Once, a long time ago, when I would walk into this room, all I could feel was overwhelming love and passion for what I knew I was going to create with these instruments and musical notes. Now I feel nothing but an air of instability. The instruments laugh at me, seemingly, as I run my fingers over them, always emotionless. I think this downward spiral that is my life has started reaching its end. My life is coming to its dead end stop, and I feel dead already in preparation. I don’t know what it was, or is for that matter, that made, or makes, me become so incredibly lost to life. I was, at the peak of my life, a wonderful musician. I was making a good amount of money composing. I had a wonderful side job at a music retail store, and the best boss ever. I was never at a loss for money, and all my friends were always around, it seemed, to do something that would cheer me up or put a smile back on my face when everything felt like it was slipping. After a while I think I just tired of the mundane life I was living. I began ditching my friends, not showing up for work, giving up on all my compositions for music companies. It was the beginning of my downward spiral, for sure. What kept it going was the fact that I met the most gorgeous man to ever live. I met you. It was, to say the least, the most clichéd meeting to ever take place. It was straight out of the movies, or a lame, soppy romance novel. I was just walking along down the sidewalk, heading towards work for what seemed like the first time in months, when you just suddenly appeared, and I ran right into you. Your black hair fell into your face when you were knocked back by me, and your thin form all but flew downwards with the impact. You had papers in your hands, but when I knocked you over they at once flew all about, in every direction, some going into the street and getting run over by the passing cars. You glared up at me, angry that I had made you drop everything, and indignantly blew a bit of your hair out of your eyes. Wincing, you gathered yourself up and got to your knees, groping about wildly after the papers that were still tumbling about in the light breeze. I stooped down and started to help you gather your things, but you just slapped my hands away, saying I had helped you enough as it seems and could I please go on my way now. I, being the somewhat compassionate person I am, offered you a cup of coffee, and said maybe I could help you out with finding what papers had blown off into the streets. You agreed to the coffee, but said you’d given up hope on the papers. As I started walking towards the little coffee shop I saw you look longingly at the dirtied and run over piece of paper in the gutter, but you soon came scurrying along behind me, trying to hide your embarrassment with a false smile. We talked while we sipped at our coffee, and we soon found we had a lot in common, you a music major and an aspiring lyricist and I a music major and a composer of sorts. You told me that the papers you were carrying were lyrics and sheet music for an assignment you’d done in some class at uni. That made me instantly feel horrid about knocking it all away as I had, but you assured me you’d already turned the assignment in and gotten the grade and you’d just been taking it home. We talked for a while longer, learning more about each other and becoming somewhat friends. When you left you gave me your number, told me to call you. You said you were an antisocial person, that your friends were bugging you to get out, and maybe we could go do something on a weekend or whatnot. I agreed, albeit a bit too hastily, and bid you goodbye as you walked out of the coffee place. A week later I was calling your number and setting up a date for Saturday evening with you. Two days after that I was sitting in the rows of seats at the symphony hall, you seated right beside me, watching the local symphony play and contemplating whether I should take you to dinner afterwards. Months of awkward friendship passed between our first outing and our first date. Neither of us had known the other shared feelings. When we found out we were quick to act, and soon we were dating full on. We dove into it too quick I suppose. Who knows? No one is to say how fast one should move in a relationship but the ones who are involved, and we thought it was moving at just the right pace. They always say that hindsight will come back and kick you in the rear, and now that I really do look back and think about it, I see how that saying comes into play. It’s so true how you can see everything for what it is with hindsight. Our relationship progressed, we formed a band, our band split, and our relationship instantly hit the rocks. It hadn’t even slowly moved into a bad spot; it just completely crumpled on instant. One moment we were completely happy and in our own world, the next we were at each other’s throats and we soon after were breaking up, “for good” as you said. The only thing was, you had tears in your eyes. I had tears in mine, too. You left. My spiral spun. It hissed and cackled, swore it would never stop. I plummeted from happiness to sheer depression in a time period of less than two days. That is why I sit here as I do now. Unhappy, even in this place I lamely call home. I hate this place. Sometimes I wish it would just burst into flames, me still inside. Without emotion I do everything I used to. Now it’s just a matter of time before I stop. Some people say depression is caused my chemical reactions in your brain. It is, but it’s also caused by so much more. Being numb hurts worse than feeling pain for every second of my life. I don’t even truly know why I keep going. I heard the other day that you are back in town. You left, went to America not long after our breakup. I haven’t heard from you in a long time. I decide maybe it’s time to go visit you, to see your beautiful face again. Maybe we can forgive each other for the odd, dream-like stated fight we had on the day of our breakup? Maybe we can be friends again. I have been ready to go to your new place for over an hour. I had originally gone into this room that was once filled with music and love to retrieve one of your compositions before I went to see you, but now I am just sitting here, dazedly remembering you and our life together. I do, eventually, snap out of the reminiscing and walk out to my car, your lyrics in my hands. I get into my car and sit behind the wheel, staring blankly at the words you so delicately scrawled out on the paper so long ago. As I am reading I suddenly realize I do not have the courage to see you. I can never bring myself to see you again. Our entire relationship moved way too fast for me to even grip. One second we had been total strangers, the next friends, the next lovers and band mates, and then suddenly we had been nothing at all. I angrily punch the steering wheel, and jump when the horn blares loudly. It jolts me from my thoughts, and I look down at your lyrics again, and realize I am sobbing, tears obscuring my vision of your lovely words. I just sob harder, holding in my hands your very heart that you poured onto paper years ago… |
| Tears Down the Wall by: Sep |