I am wearing the flush of joy that comes as a result of someone finding me beautiful just as I am. It is seeping out through my skin and tightening my pores and setting me aglow. Is it the same for you?
I am sitting in front of my computer, my fingers poised to type. I am alight with joy and drunk on his many promises. I can’t find the words today. They only pour out of me when I am weighed down with good sense and bleakness. Is it the same for you?
He doesn’t seem to speak a lot. My words, usually a well of still water deep down inside me are erupting into a volcano of babble and drenching us both. He tells me that he loves the rain. Is it the same for you?
Her picture always seems to follow mine on his phone. He says she is just a really good friend. I scrutinize her face in all its extraordinary ordinariness. I know that I am prettier than she is and this makes me decide to take his word for it. Is it the same for you?
He has left his phone unattended on the table and gone off somewhere. My fingers itch to touch it like they always do to touch him. I tell myself trust is the bedrock of any functional relationship. A voice whispers in my head, “but he hasn’t even asked you yet.” I ignore the voice and the phone. Is it the same for you?
He is ugly to me the day that I find out. She is wearing his shirt and it is their six month anniversary. I rage and I run. He comes after me and pleads. I think this must mean that he chooses me. I have had the sitcom episode and now I want the full movie. I task the one who broke me with putting me back together. Is it the same for you?
I am bored. I think this and then quickly squelch the thought. At least I am not alone. I have been alone for far too long. It is better to be alone that be undervalued. But what is my value really without someone to call my own, tears and words spoken into a void? Is it the same for you?
I have settled for a situation that is beneath me, but at least I am settled. I don’t have to beat back against the horde of endlessly prettier girls to find someone who sees my worth. He sees it occasionally, when he isn’t the cause of my tears and the void that my words fall into. Is it the same for you?
Guilt overwhelms me about her. I wonder if she still has his shirt. I wonder if she has found someone better. I wonder if there was someone before her. I wonder if he told her the same thing that he told me; that he would never normally cheat but I was just too glorious to handle. I don’t feel glorious, I feel ashamed. Do you?
I remember the reasons he gave me why she was no longer good enough for him and I was. He was always full of reasons. I let myself be blind to the selfishness that stained their edges because I was clothed in the exact same shade. If she was too stressful, it was her fault. I was the quintessential cool girl after all. Is it the same for you?
I am shaken up and then let out of my cage all at once. I am tumbling through the air. I am made up of shards of glass and they are held together in the shape of me only by the rage. I am incandescent with rage. I wonder if it will be rage for you as well or just sadness.
Do I ask for too much regard and too much care? Do I ask for too much when I ask him to pay attention to my words and not the meaning he imagines behind them? Do I bother him too much when I refuse to let him don his robe of subterfuge? Is it too much to ask him to vacate the middle for once and cross over into the land of yes or no, of right or wrong? Do I start too many fights? Am I simply too much? Are you just right?
Are you deciding that you are prettier and softer around the edges and kinder and cooler? Are you happy now that you belong to someone? Is there a cloak of doubt on the shoulders of your relief at no longer being alone? Are you shrugging it off? Are you thinking that you’re special and that the story couldn’t possibly end the same for you? It was the same for me.
Hi guys. This is the first thing I’ve written in about three years. I’d really appreciate your feedback in the comments.