I’m writing a story

I am writing a story, and it goes like this. The protagonist – me – is sitting with a girl on the floor in the corner of the room all curled up because of the cold. We’re having a conversation on things that might seem irrelevant to a passer by. We smile and laugh and rejoice the moment of a good conversation. I – the protagonist, look up and notice her so called lover come. He picks her up from the ground and shouts at her for sitting there. I try to gather the contents of our conversation and put together where we were. He then starts pulling her into a room while I stand there speechless. I can see her looking at me but there is nothing I can do. I can see him holding her waist and moving his hands slowly to remove her T-shirt as the door closes behind them. After a little while I could hear light sounds of shouting and crying. I stand there for 15 minutes before the door opens again and I see him storm out. She gets out slowly herself and I could see the sadness in her face. “What happened?” I ask. “Nothing. He was just worried” she replies. I could see her eyes worried. I wanted to ask what had happened which has changed those wanting eyes that were passionate for a good conversation while entering the room to those worried and scared eyes when she left the room..

I’m writing a story and it goes like this. The protagonist – me – enters my girlfriend’s house and find her curled up in a corner with her friend. She’s smiling and I love seeing her smile. I notice her sitting on the cold floor and I get worried. I walk over there and pick her up. I try to talk but the sound doesn’t come out. I raise my voice and tell her how wrong it is to sit on the cold floor during winter. But there’s not time for that. I have to tell her something important. I pull her to her room to have some privacy and lock the door behind me. I lift her T-shirt a little to check if the cold has gone as far as her skin. I need to tell her that I’m breaking up with her. I could see the confusion in her eyes and I try to leave. She holds my hand and asks why. I tell her that she’s better off loving someone else. Maybe the friend of her’s outside who she was laughing with. I just wanted to pick a fight and make it easy. She starts to shout and cry and starts hitting me hard. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t see her suffer. I hold her hands still hitting me, tell her the truth and run out. I somehow knew she wouldn’t follow me. After so any years of us being together, that’s the least I could know. I leave her house as soon as possible trying to get as far from her as possible..

I’m writing a story and it goes like this. The protagonist – me – is sitting with a friend talking. He’s a real comedian and makes me smile and laugh a lot. I see my boyfriend coming in and picking me up from the floor. He tells me how bad it is to sit on the floor. He then pulls me into his room while I let him all confused. I try to tell my friend that I’ll be back but I’m speechless. As he closes the door, he moves his hands and raises my t-shirt. I trust him enough to know that he will not hurt me. He moves away leaving me wanting and confused. He tells me that he wants to break up. I am more confused than I was before. I see him leave and as a reflex try to stop him. “Why?” I ask. “You’re better off loving someone else”, he answers. “Maybe your friend outside will be happy to oblige.” And I couldn’t believe my ears. The guy outside was just a friend. Did he think that I was cheating on him. Did he not trust me anymore? I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down my eyes as I start shouting at him. So many years of togetherness and now he comes and doubts me. I start hitting him just to vent the frustration. He holds my hands and tells me “I have cancer”. And I just stand there shocked. He quickly runs out and I see him leave through the front door. I slowly walk out still in shock. “What happened?”, I hear, from someone who doesn’t need to know. “Nothing. He was just worried.” I reply with a million emotions running through my mind..


  1. I found many stories with this typical plot: the sick protagonist (with cancer or other super rare, lethal illness) breaking up with her/his loved one, usually they’ll be reunited anyway, before s/he end up dead. I just don’t get it. Why break up because having a cancer? Why eliminate one significant supporter for your short life? Won’t make it easier for both party too.
    Well, maybe it’ll be more reasonable if the man is HIV positive.

    1. Basically, depends on the person’s mindset I guess..
      For me, I’d break up with the person because I wouldn’t want them to suffer.
      I’ve seen people suffer with their close ones having cancer. Just stay with them night and day, leave the job because you’re too busy taking care of the sick and finally comes the day when it inevitably happens.

      My real motive for the story was to show the prejudice that we posses and how each of us thinks that we’re the protagonist in the story.

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