anditwasso
She tightens the measuring tape around my center, a perfect parting of my body in two, and I wonder if I'll pinch in half if she tightens it anymore. "A 24" she says, and I can hardly breathe
He cuts his index finger on the sharpness of the opening of a beer can when he presses it against the aluminum, mindlessly flipping through channels with the remote in his other hand, trying very hard not to think of anything at all
She brings the cup to her lips and drinks; water dribbles down her chin and onto her lap, temporary stains on her white dress, but she'd prefer this messiness to the feeling of death she had been feeling only seconds prior.
Everything slipped through the crack-- THE crack, though little ones splintered off it like kin, but no, it was just The Fault, the entire splitting of a planet, and that was what everything I'd once known slipped into. My house. My dog. My baby. My boyfriend. My lawn. My church. My gardening tools. The only thing that had stopped me from doing the same was a red SUV and 200 miles to keep me apart. I only wished I could join them.
Once I was owned.
Once I was held in the palm of another; once I was the cast; once, I was nothing more but the shedded exoskeleton of a creature I wished only to be a part of once more.
Once, I wanted nothing more but to be loved by you.
Once.
Amsterdam was not a city of lost souls, so it was the worst city for me. I walked, and there would be bikers zooming past me to my left and right, couples, families, a solitary individual with a destination in my mind-- and there was I walking, left in their cycling dust without a grounded thought in the world.
Black starts to stream out of my first, black like ink, running down the crinkles in my hand and staining the carpet-- it puddles around my feet and it makes me sick, but the only thing that would've made me sicker would have been NOT crushing her black, black, inky heart in my hand until it ceased to beat.
For the first time in my life, I realized I was on a leash. They weren't trying to tame me-- the curfews, the clean language, the restrictions of thought... I was tamed already. The awareness made me want to hurl.
I blinked after reading the texting message.
"dual"
Was it a typo?
I hadn't heard from Alexa in three years-- I thought by now she was probably overdosed with drugs and dead-- but here was a text, "dual", and the only real meaning I could think it would have would be a misspelling of "do al", which is one of the only things I could really think of Alexa actually texting me.
I'm not the best.
I'm not the best when it comes to love especially; while other people seem to fall in love and get their hearts broken time and time again, I feel like an unmoving statue.
Nothing I do seems to really change. I'm stuck in a tedious cycle where I'm going through the motions of flirting and falling for somebody and while, for them, the feeling is real, I'm on the other side desperately waiting for something to happen. For my heart to be moved with passion. But I've got the same amount of passion as a rock.
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