Chocolate chip saline fell through her fingers while she covered her face. It was silly, she told herself, he doesn’t love me, he doesn’t care. She was nothing special, she thought. Gray rivers streaked her cheeks as she stared steadily in the mirror. It was always like this, she thought. She could only keep the fleeting feeling of contentment so long. I want to be more, different, to change, to demolish myself if I have to, start again—to be good enough for him, she thought…and I hate this. I am a chameleon, a charade, I do not exist, I am not real, I am always someone else, she whispered to her reflection. He can’t love me, because he doesn’t know me, and he wouldnt if he did, she thought.
She fixed her face and took deep breaths until unhappiness’ red residue left her face and eyes. Everything will be ok, she thought, everything will work out…it has to. She smiled at herself in the mirror, was disgusted by the flawlessness of its fabrication, smoothed her hair and skirt and then walked back upstairs, smiling and saying “hello” to everyone she knew.
She heard him laughing as he walked up behind her and lightly hit her on the shoulder. As she turned around he asked where she had been and where they were going to go for lunch. She smiled and said she didn’t care, that anywhere was fine, fantastic. He picked her least favorite restaurant, but it didn’t matter, she laughed and agreed—sounds good, she said. Nothing will change, she thought. He smiled and grabbed his keys, winding through small crowd near the door, leading their way to the parking lot. It was a beautiful day, she thought, warm and blue and perfect for destroying yourself.
1 comment:
She's completely perfect for him you know. He's definitely not perfect either. We're all fake. Each and every one of us. Love is the only thing that ever finds its way into the reality and behind the masks of who we all are.
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