Pain. The sort of paralysing pain that rips through every nerve and every fibre in your body, crushing your soul and culminating in a deep-seated feeling of worthlessness and self-loathing. When you feel so low that life seems in monochrome, lacking any sort of brightness and vitality.

I wish I could say I feel this pain, watching from my safe distance. I know I ought to feel revulsion for my words, my actions especially ... thinking back, well, I can’t bear to ... revulsion for myself. Just to feel anything apart from this ... emptiness that is plaguing my mind like some sort of malicious virus eating into my soul.

I’m completely numb while I watch your entrance; the roar of the crowd chanting your name, cheering, laughing, shedding tears of pride and undiluted emotion, unafraid to openly weep in public view, for the whole world to see their tears, their dreams, their delight.

And I think how if it was me sitting in that scarlet Ferrari, the emblem of so much pain and joy over the years, the elation would feel somewhat hollow in comparison. If last year had been different, if I had managed the almost impossible, then I doubt there would be this same out-pouring of emotion to such an extent. It’s strange. For the first time I’ve realised just how wrong I was, and I can’t help thinking that it should be you enveloped by the glory. A far more worthy winner than I could have been. It wasn’t meant for me, I guess. You’ve always had that link with them, I haven’t. I’m not jealous about that, it’s not my style. That might be the reason why they would say I was less committed, less popular. Not that I cared ... but that’s all in the past right now.

But I know soon I will feel jealous. I can’t disguise that and I can’t pretend otherwise, and I know that once I’m sitting in my lonely, bleak hotel room tonight, I’ll be wishing it was me in your place, soaking up the glory.

But right now, nothing. Not a trace of anything vaguely resembling bitterness or regret, jealousy or pity. And this is far worse. This loneliness is so much more crushing than any of the harsh words you gave me or any of the anger you directed towards me. Because right now, you don’t need me. You have your friends, your glory, your family, and what do I have? Nothing that I want, really want completely. Hell, the only thing I really need right now is the one thing that I thought I could live without, the one thing that I thought I could treat with such utter contempt, playing the laid-back bastard I’ve always been.

And I can’t feel anything about the past right now. Like I’m in a state of limbo, almost as if none of this is really happening. It’s as if I’ve gone past regret, gone past ... everything and now I’m not allowed to feel anything for fear of breaking down completely.

I could go over to you, be the one to extend the olive branch in peace in front of all these marauding cameras, eager to catch a glimpse of you in triumph. But you don’t have to accept my peace. You don’t owe me anything and I can’t expect your forgiveness and compassion any more than I can afford myself the same.

But there’s no harm in trying to break the barrier between us. You deserve every congratulation you are given and this is as good a place as any. At the same place where it all went wrong last year, where I felt so much hate towards you and now where I’m victim and perpetrator. Talk about irony, but I guess it’s fairly apt that it should be here. Where I completely messed up last time. The wounds have yet to heal but right now that’s not important. This is different. Just a congratulation, nothing more.

But will you accept it from me?

~The End.