As the cold day broke, with the sun rising meticulously over the horizon casting waves of light across the tired land, I suddenly woke from a pleasant sleep to the comparatively unpleasant sound of my alarm. This day is doomed to be awful, I thought. It was doomed before it even started—before I woke up this morning, before I fell asleep last night, before the weekend had even begun, and really this day was doomed from the very beginning. The very (and unofficial) beginning was approximately 4 months ago. Somehow the idea had come into my mind that I liked this guy and that this time, for the first time, I should do something about it. So, leaping out into the unfamiliar world of dating, I asked him out. Some might call this a “bold move,” but in reality, he had asked me out the previous week and I had turned him down; the only worry I had was whether he still liked me or not, though I did not particularly care either way. Thus our relationship began, from the barely palpable roots of friendship into what we both thought was love.

Love. What is love anyways? Love is a concept, a figment of the human mind’s imagination that has been kept alive throughout the generations in the hope that it exists. The hard truth is that love does not exist. People do not like the truth though, they like what makes them happy and thinking they know the truth and are being told the truth makes them happy so they are quite content with that. They are also content with believing in love and anything to the contrary one would find to be widely rejected, saying the originator of the thought is cold-hearted. I, however, am not cold-hearted. I think with my brain and not my heart, and I suppose the general public does not approve of this method.

I resigned myself to crawling out of my bed and readying myself for school, though I had no desire to go today—today was going to be a bad day. Today was when, what started 4 months ago, would end. Over the weekend, I realized that I no longer liked him and I could not stand to be his girlfriend one more minute. I am going to break up with him, whether he likes it or not, and whether I like it or not, I resolved. I wandered aimlessly around my room, continually pondering uselessly to the point of insanity until I finally finished getting ready and headed to school, dreading the event to come.

The library and everybody in it was the same—buzzing with chatter and gossip and people having fun. He was already there, standing by a row of books and waiting for me. I walked slowly over to him, being careful not to step on anybody lounging on the floor and blocking the fire exit (it’s not like we need it or anything). Smiling, I handed him my diary. He had been exceedingly curious about it and eager to read it, though I perpetually denied him the opportunity until this moment. I gasped suddenly and his head snapped up from the diary’s cover to my face.

“I just remembered…” I lied quickly. “I have to go make up a math test.” I tried my best not to let my voice shake as I continued. “I guess I’ll just see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” he responded brightly.

He has no idea, I thought. He doesn’t even see it coming, not one bit. I smiled with slight satisfaction as I briskly walked out of the library and into the bustling hallway, turning left and heading for the cafeteria where I could sit and not make up a math test in peace.

~

The library, as usual, was crowded, noisy, and boring. She wasn’t here yet and I could hardly wait for when she would finally walk through the doors, turn, and smile at me. I let my thoughts wander briefly before returning to the conversation about Track and Field—there had been a meet last week and there would be another today. I was just about to interject with an insightful, witty comment which I had yet to formulate, when I felt something nudging my arm. I looked around and saw her, gently pushing her diary my way. I looked at her in amazement and wordlessly accepted her diary, one of the few literary anythings I have ever wanted to read. I admired the cover, sleek and shiny with three gracefully arched dolphins jumping out of the periwinkle-blue water. It was beautiful and gave the impression that it's contents were of great importance and intellect; also because they were the thoughts of my amazing girlfriend, my love, and my world. She gasped and I hurriedly looked up at her.

“I just remembered,” she began a bit rushed, “I have to go make up a math test. I guess I'll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” I replied, disappointed that she was leaving for now, but glad for the prospect of seeing her again. As she exited the library, I situated myself in an empty aisle and opened her diary to the bookmarked page. I began reading slowly so I could drink in the intoxication of her thoughts and words:

Rejection builds character, so they say
I guess you will find out either way
Over time we have grown apart
It's time I had a new start
One where we are not friends
and I can have a life again
So here's to us, the love we shared,
The damage to your heart, never repaired
You may still love me, that is fine
but this is no phase, it's real this time
End your life, it's up to you—
I honestly do not care what you do.

Blinking the tears out of my eyes, I sat stationery in disbelief. The words kept cycling through my head like a broken record, “The damage to your heart, never repaired... End your life, it's up to you-- I honestly do not care what you do.” How could she do this to me? I loved her. I still love her. Lifting my head resolutely, I searched through my bookbag and retrieved a black pen. Black. Black as death, I thought bitterly. Jumbled words floated through my head; I tried desperately to snatch them and mold these words into sentences that articulated my thoughts:

I loved you
I thought you loved me too
Rejection builds character so they say
But it's all the same at the end of the day
So here's to us, the love we shared
The damage to my heart, I will repair
With this pen as my knife
I will make amends
Take my life,
make my end
As I bleed onto the floor
Remember, it was you who didn't want to be friends anymore

I scribbled it down harshly, my tears dripping onto the page, smudging words here and there. So this is how it's going to end. I suppose I always knew this day would come. I knew it before it started--before I woke up this morning, before I fell asleep last night, before the weekend had even begun, and really I knew it from the very beginning.

As the coldness of the day broke, the sun above the horizon and warming the depressed earth, her diary rested with me, the poems drinking in my blood to quench their thirst. The blood seeped across the page of the diary, across her poem and across my own, adding the final coloring to our masterpiece. Red; red like love. Black; black as death.