Head Over Heels Over Head Etc. by Yochi Ottensooser

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I sat forlorn, feeling tired, wasted, spent, used, mistreated. I also felt as if justice had been served. I knew I deserved it, but it still made me feel terrible. My girlfriend (or girlfiend) of 18 fucking months left me ... and it was all because of me.
I never expected it to go anywhere. But, as the months went by, the momentum of the relationship swept me up, into the belly of a monster, or the heart of the problem, more fittingly. But it failed. It seems as if she has a soul amputation and got it replaced by a scrap of plastic...

The notion of chronology is out of my grasp. I remember, just like it was yesterday at this moment that day, the day, that afternoon actually; the one right after the rugby grand final. I was on the field. She was in the crowd, cheering. I took a chance, I walked up to her. She stood there, surrounded by her elegant, extravagant and exclusive posse of female social bodyguards. A supermodel pope surrounded by her own Swiss Guard.
I walked past them, began to utter to her my speech, already thought out, and I looked at her. She seemed to glow with a radiation similar to a nuke, blinding and deadly, but infinitely glorious. I noticed her entourage had dissipated, obviously seeing it was a private matter, so I uttered the final words to her, almost like a prayer "please, go out with me". At the time, I felt like I put my life on the edge, but she eased my suffering by not answering with words. She kissed me.

Now, with a slightly mind screwing device I like to call fast forward, welcome to 2007, October, just before our last exams. Whenever I see her now, that aura has detached itself and I now see her as a loved and fragile partner. She is (was) the cornerstone of my existence. Until yesterday. The supposed love of my life decided that it wasn't working. I had booked a half year of travel after the exams finished. So much for plans.

I sit here, forlorn, feeling tired, wasted, spent, used, mistreated. But I feel that justice has been done. In this relationship, I don't think I treated her as well as I could have, as well as she deserved, as well as she treated me. I don't quite blame her for leaving, but I don't quite understand her either. I was a fairly good boyfriend, loyal, dedicated but ... I don't think I put in words the feeling that the simple, beautiful and magnificent sight of her filled me with. Quite simply ... I didn't acknowledge her existence enough.

Sitting here, finishing my assessment before the big game, swiveling in my computer chair, wrapped in a blanket to stave away the 4am cold. My phone rings.

Ring

Ring

Ring... Ring... Ring ...

I don't feel quite up to it. I leave it to the answering machine.
‘Leave a message ... Bye' my voice sounding oddly alienated, almost tinny. A message from a half year ago. Her sweet laughter filling the background. I probably won't hear that sound anymore.
Then I hear a voice unfamiliar to me... ‘Hello, this is Ben Clarkson, from the City coroner's office. Sorry about the time, this is urgent.