3:50 AM

It's 3:50 in the morning, and you're staring into empty space with cheap coffee brewing in your stained cup. You pressed the scorching material against your forehead then slid to your cheek in hopes that will warm up your skin. You know you're supposed to be in bed and try to squeeze as much sleep in but then again, jobs keep piling and school certainly never ends.

You should rest, but you really can't, even when your skin sags from tiredness and the third cup of black coffee didn't make a dent. On storm ridden and snowy days like this when the November cold rattles your bones, you're wondering why do you bother coming home. No warmth of the body, hers particularly, to warm up the sheets, or you, for that matter. You realized that you are coming home to an empty house, coping with lonely nights, and your breaths uneasy in preparation for darker futures. You detest daylight since it signals get another bout with the world with her in it. You hated the living since it reminds you of her, so vibrant and vivacious when you're half-dead just from waiting for her eyes to land on you. You are so bitter about everything that you're not sure what the reasons are anymore.

It's 3:50 AM and you're fantasizing about her sitting across from you, sharing an early dawn coffee or midnight dinner. But when a careless noise from outside hit and the scent of coffee jolts the dormant part of your brain and reality slams in yet again, it took your damned hardest not to break down and shatter into a million pieces. It was all her fault, a legitimate blame. She warmed your heart quick, that little hole in your left breast you thought barren and vacant. But faster did she left, your heart's life line, and too swift, your heart froze. That irrational transition between two ends of the hot and cold was too sudden, and it scares you how easily your heart shatter. Now the space is once more bare and you sighed in relief because you thought there's no more body part for her claws to dig and torture. Instead you just ended up with more void for pain to fill.

It's 3:50 AM on what you think is the coldest November day and you're thinking why the hell you're not just march over there and rip out her heart and keep it for yourself. That was what she did to you after all. So cruel and cold-blooded, she left you for dead, flopping less when each moment passes. Now you don't even have the strength.

You have been through some pretty grotesque situations and seen the hidden realities way too much. You had trysts and you had lusts, and your compartmentalization skills help you through every single time when everything seemed to a little to close to the end. You still breaths, maybe with just a miniscule hitch, after they all left. But her, she never even touches you and you can barely open your eyes in the morning. You think you're starting to run out of compartments.

So it's 3:50 AM on a murky dawn with the impending sun on the horizon and you decided the next 3:50 AM will be the last. After all you've been through, this decision would be the easiest, and come as a relief.