Chapter 1: Automatic motion.
It was a rainy grey Saturday afternoon. Shifting everybody’s mood as hers had already been changed last night. It was not cranky, mad or angry, nothing like that. She was just sad. The tragic, beautiful, heartbroken kind of sad. And heartbroken she was. Although she couldn’t cry anymore on this cold morning. It was barely as cold as her empty bed had been lately.
She sighted as she took the cloth out of the bucket. Her head wasn’t with the work at all. It was proceeding on automatic motion. Same as she had lived this pass year. Each time again trying to pick up all the pieces he left around scattered. Putting her life back together. Yet is was so much easier to say that she was doing it then actually coming around to it. History is the one thing only to be accepted when it’s past. But now that history keeps presenting it’s self in the present there’s no stopping time. Only left, demons chasing you down, disguised as memories. Demanding you to feel, forcing you to step out of line, making you change into something you are not. Thank god she hadn’t done nothing like that not yet. She had seen more people in sheep clothes then she had ever recognised her own demons. Maybe that’s why battle’s within are so much harder to win, because you are your own biggest opponent. Your demons they know all of your weak spots, hit you right there where you’ll be unaware of the attack.
As she was cleaning the kitchen counter, or cleaned this one spot over and over again, she stroke trough her hair. For just a second she had forgotten she had short hair. But there it was the part of hair she wanted to throw over her shoulder, which just wasn’t there. That’s the way someone influences you. He was invaded into the most tiny and stupid pieces of her life to haunt her there for ever more.
Not only had she changed her hair so he would no longer find her attractive. She knew he loved the long, strait, brown hair. The main reason was that people thought she was been mistaken to be Narcisse for quite some times. God how she hated that. The fact that even know after all she still had to wonder... If he and her where only together because that one night, he mistook her for me? Just as the rest of the world did. If only his friends did so, that would be terrible, but understandable. They probably also exaggerated for the peruse of teaching a lesson. Yet her friends.
I was just eating a slice of pizza on my favourite festival, as someone started to talk to me about things I had never heart of before. He was all gushing about how fun it was to see each other again, when I didn’t even recognised him. Tell when he saw, that I had no idea who he was. he was all like, oh wait I’ll find a picture of the girl I thought you where. There it was. A picture of Narcisse staring right into my eyes.
I no choice but you go. I ran and ran. I still remember my friends coming after me asking what is wrong. How could I explain, that I am replaced with a look a like? How does anyone handles being mistaken for someone who’s heart was never broken, by the one token that was in the midst of this all... him.
That was the moment I decided, I had to change my hair, do something different. I asked the hairdresser to put in red and blond highlights. Got her to cut it short with layers. The exact opposites of what she had, what I used to wear my hair like. Not only had she gotten what I used to call once mine, she had gotten my looks, my style wit hit all for free. No one asked her if it was awkward for her that we looked so similar, cause well, they all thought that was a shitty move. When shit they threw at me, over and over.
I would have sung it all off of me, but I no longer had a voice to sing with. You had token my sound away, as I tried to speak, not even the tiniest voice spoke. It got gone, until it was buried deep inside. Somewhere where it would no longer be exposed tot his interrogation light. No more spoken words for a girl know as the one and only spoken word that walks around here. The one everyone knew was home, when they heard a high-pitched Taylor Swift sound pass their windows by. She biked silently to work now. No humming, no fake drumming. She was still.
Cause my voice within had been taken, I tried to write. As I had always written. But the words wouldn’t flow out. There where no thoughts. I could not think about it, cause the hurt was to much form y shoulders to hold. I would vanish under the weight of the memories that where trying to weigh me down. The words you said, to me, where the words I wanted you, to once again, read, see. But what was the point in me, telling the world what I wanted it to be. When it would get me... you? What was the use in anything at all, if apparently so I can be easily replaced by someone looking like me. It made me wonder if... if I had a twin, would you love her more then me? Cause maybe my twin would be flawlessly?
Was there ever even the option not to change, when you kept on asking more of me, and I was willingly, giving you, every last part of me?
Had I ever stood a chance up against the rules of love, that you so well seem to manipulate? When you explain to me, what you think love should be, where ever was your fault, when it where mine as well. I had the crazy idea that love was a two way street, but when I fell for your feet, you made it so very clear... love is how you paint it to be my dear. You made my sky look so blissfully light blue, did I ever knew... just how fast this paint of yours shifts colours, when you walked out the door. How was I supposed to know, that spray paint was just as easily to be dripped of and washed of as our sunscreen that summer did.
He changed it all. My idea of love, the way I looked at life. How I thought of the future to be, but most of all what I saw in the mirror when I looked at... me.
My perspective of things had gotten a 360 spin. I was starting to begin to learn, what it is in live, love allows you to earn. When you decided that running, was so much more cunning. It was to be surely the only way you could be certain, I would be haunted by you, till you would be long gone, to be getting nowhere fast. To walk along empty streets, to roam where roads lead to more crossroads. To be passed along by the passing of time alone. To wander where wondering leads. With nothing but died seeds.
Yet you where moving. How strange and rare, that one can be filled with jealousy only to see, that the one they envy, has nothing at all, more or less, then this Denzel in distress.
Oh how he changed me. More then I ever imagined anyone would be able to. There lays my fault, in loving you, with all that I was. In giving myself away, for free. My fault was, thinking that you might be, what you had show me. Cause it’s all lies, it’s always lies and masks, that make us grasp the flasks, filled with a liquor that’s stronger then we are. We pour it in a cup, trying to soak up, the strength we can’t find ourselves, to speak out honest words. That are barely spoken of. Let along believed, by the one’s we once deceived.
He had changed me. He had changed me. When in this whole world, in my whole time. I had promised myself that at the end of the line, I would have never changed for anyone else’s opinion then mine. I still did. Not because you asked me, but because I believed you to be, just as much part of myself as I was to be. But you weren’t. Not even close.
For some time, I had loved the fact that he had changed me, I would even worship him, almost thank him for he had done, but not now. Not anymore now.
Slowly the fact that before I met him I could shower long and warm. So delightful those days where. I would sing under the shower with a foam sponge to be sung in as a microphone. I would dance and close my eyes. Almost as in a daydreaming trance, I was preforming there under the shimmering water. I would laugh along, as I knew all the words of my favourite song by heart, sing it part by part. Wash off what the whole day had held on the rhythm of the beat. Splashing the water with my feet. Dancing round naked, discovering every single mole my body had, looking over ever freckle as a wonder of nature, on my so far clean canvas.
Yet when I met him, when he slept over. When we became closer and closer. I spend all my time under the shower, thinking about yelling out to the hallway if he wanted to join me. I no longer sung for my singing qualities where not that good. I had no good voice or anything, I just sung for the love of it. I was scared he would laugh at me if he would hear me, or that he would think I was childish or silly. So with the purpose of self-protection, I no longer had a showering routine. I would try to take my mind off of it by thinking every single time I showered, what it would be like if he where under it too. Thinking of that one time at his friend’s pool when we did. I could get so aroused by the thought of being is this small space with him, for me alone, to pull in close, be locked up with his body naked and wet. For me to get, all I ever dreamed of in my wildest dreams. To make him see, that even good girls get bad. Kissing with our eyes closed, but feeling as if life where filmed in screaming color.
Then he left, and my whole shower turned into a black and white, mid ‘50’s scenery. Where the shower was meant for only showering. No thoughts allowed, no fun. No water was to be wasted. Up until the moment I found myself sitting on the floor of my bathroom, soaked trough by the showerhead, dripping wet. Shivering whilst my skin was burning red from the heat of the water. Yet I could not feel it. I was numb, I was just so out of touch, by having felt way too much... that my heart got numbed. I was crying without reason. Not even hurt was there to hurt me anymore. What I hadn’t given that second to feel a little bit of emotion, anything at all. Cause we all rather feel pain then feeling plain. I would stare blank ahead to the side screens catching the water, as I tried to let these destructive thoughts flow down the drain. All I ever was and all I had been these past months was pouring down in tears and dropping into the stream, as I was drowning in the drain I only had the choice to let myself drown or to hold on to the thoughts that did not go with the flow but rather floated. And so I choose to hold on to what kept holding me back.
I got so warn down by this kind of showers, that I started to shower as cold and short as possible. When I had tree days in a row off I would stay inside the house and not shower until the morning of my soon to be seen new door would open. I would do what was necessary to be okay when I walked out of the door. But okay, isn’t anywhere near decent or feeling good at all.
It didn’t even was a thing then, when last week suddenly I found myself singing under the shower, wit hall this power, dancing and laughing and goofing around with the soap. When I realised how much I missed that and wonder to myself why in earth I ever stopped doing that in the first place. When I came to find, you are the reason again. For me changing. So intimidating that someone can walk in your life and without you knowing invade these little rituals, little you things, and change them without your knowledge what so ever. That someone can invade in practically anything that you wouldn’t even debate about to call something. You came in and change nothing, yet you changed so much of my nothings, and don’t worry, and no problems... that I no longer have no nothing’s anymore.
I didn’t even realised, how much you changed me. Until you already did. With our without my consent, I can’t decide. Whether falling for your feet, and being swept away, is a choice or a decision that gets to be decided for you. I can’t decide. It would be easy to say, I did not made the call, but who will say who did, when I must admit, that I don’t even remember ever passing that stage? Was I ever able to be saved when I have no recollection of the moment when you invaded and I faded into you. I don’t recall, when I had to call out for an emergency, cause I honestly can’t see, the moment the red flags rose, the moment I should’ve froze. But I didn’t, I just went along, got warmed up, for the long run, that got shut down by you giving some else my seat, giving away my shotgun.
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