For every ♪ I get I’ll put my Ipod on shuffle and write a drabble inspired by the song that plays.
“I’m Made of Wax, Larry, What Are You Made Of?” - A Day to Remember
It was coming. It was always coming.
Five missed calls and seven unread texts and Ed couldn’t bring himself to answer any of them. Yet. He promised he would when it came. In a few minutes it would ring again. Maybe it was their desperation to reach him now that they were falling too. He should answer, but he didn’t think that was fair. You don’t cut someone out and then go to them as your support when you start to burn apart again. They’d been trying, slowly, for so long, and Ed kept the door shut and locked tight. One too many second chances and for what? Being let down every time, being taken advantage of and pushed aside and having no mind paid to him when it came down to it. And now? Now if he felt like he was holding a puppet string he never knew he’d had until a few days ago.
The phone buzzed on the table, he let it go to voicemail again.
This was no loss on his end, cutting that string hurt, sure. It always hurt to cut someone out but enough had been done. No going back, or so it had felt to him. Some said he was being too harsh, that he should reconsider.
“I’ll be there to watch when you fall.” He saw the whole thing. The life slowly fall apart and walls crumble and the keep fall into the sea that had been there. Waiting. He knew because so many times Ed watched his own buildings rise and fall, be attacked with canon fire and watched wax ooze down his arms when he got himself high enough. The last thing he told them was to take care of themselves, he said it would come back and hurt later and he’d be the one to help pick up after. Brushed off, spat in his face, and angry words hung as they walked away and he moved on. He wasn’t good enough, he was too much, he was just right, it was a circle and he was done testing to see where in the grass the snake was coming from. There was nothing else after that, he didn’t need it and was pushed until he gave. Enough people felt like they were against him, not them too. He couldn’t take them being one of the others, so he left and so did they. And now here they were again. Out of desperation, or malice, or impulse…
Maybe just because they knew he’d understand, that maybe before he uttered the words “I told you so” that he’d listen first.
The phone buzzed again, Ed sighed and picked up.
Six missed calls and seven unopened texts. He kept his promise.