Female Rejection.

If you think I'm going to take notice, that I am going to care, then you are mistaken. You are wrong. I shoved you aside, put you on the shelf to admire and stare at but not to interact with. I did this long ago. Climbing down to try and woo me with the past won't do anything but hurt me. The past is there to be observed, not dabbled with. This is not H.G. Wells, and I am not a past-traveling hero. I step each moment further into the future, and your efforts are behind me. Does it mean I don't like you, or that I never cared? Quite the opposite. It's why it hurts, why I constantly glance to the shelf. It's why I refuse you today. Once upon a time I said for the honor. Now, I say for the memory.

All the anti-depressants in the world couldn't make me cope. I'll tell you every day I'm the most resoundingly sturdy man of mental prowess. That nothing can break me, none of you can harm me without allowance. But I'd be lying, there is one thing that I cannot cope with, one thing I cannot handle. It breaks me down, reduces me to tears. I am a shriveled child in the corner, sobbing while holding the precious teddy bear. Or in my case, Mr. Lion. I thought it wouldn't be a problem today. Thought nothing would matter, how would I even dare to assume this or that would happen in relation to that dreaded day of February 5 at 9:16 AM. But it was. It happened, I was helpless before it. I tried to reason myself out of it, I am the logical and the decisive. I am the one in control, the one everyone leans towards... But not in this case. Not at this time. He cowers, even now, in his grave. And I can do nothing to comfort him. Is this as close to suicide as I'll ever expe...