The Performance of a Lifetime

She's acting; she knows what you like. She knows what you want. She knows she's not right for you... So she'll act like she is - because she's in love with you. 

Perhaps she'll realise that her persona will crack and eventually he'll see the real her... She'll no longer be the one he wants. She'll be too in love to let go - that's the way it always is. She'll get hurt when he leaves but she'll never be able to blame him for not understanding. She was the one acting while he was being real.

It doesn't matter that his version of 'real' meant being cruel. Nobody could ever blame him for being himself... She was the one who decided to be loved for what she was not... so how can be blame him for hating who she really is? She, however, fell in love with the real him... And she's still in love with him. She has no reason not to be - he hasn't changed. Yet now he will hurt her by running away... by shutting the proverbial door in her face.

Even in the face of pain, she won't let go of her feelings because she's a girl that has never been good at goodbyes, that has never had a knack for letting go and has never dealt well with rejection - thus the cause for her acting in the first place. 

She has no choice but to watch him leave... seeing as she cannot do anything within her power to make him stay. She can't take her eyes off of him. She will watch him walk away until she can no longer see him and even then, he will haunt her mind for an eternity... Because it was the performance of a lifetime.

She made him fall in love. She took a part of him. She is and always will be somewhat a part of him. They're both broken in some way. They've both been forced to walk away...

Because she was acting.

--J.

Let Me Have A Moment

I wonder if you'd let me, I wonder if you'd allow... No. It's too much for me too ask of you. It's too much. Yet, I wonder if maybe... just maybe you'd let me, just maybe you'd humour me.

I just want to hold your hand for a little while. Staring into your eyes as you played with my fingers, your thumb stroking the centre of my palm. Hold me close for a little while so that I could feel, for a moment, infinitely safe behind the wall of your body. Pull me in and don't let go until the tears stop running down my face. Protect me for a fleeting instance, kiss my scars so that my skin may be healed and innocent again. Then move your lips to mine... and kiss me just one time. 

And then once more... 
And then again. 
And again. 
And never stop.

Not until this moment is over... I hope it'll never be over.

I wonder if you'd let me have this moment.

--J.

Electric Blue

I looked down at my quivering fingers and inhaled sharply as pained sobs racked my chest. The electric blue nail polish blurred beneath the tears that were welling up in my eyes. 

It takes a lot to finally come to terms with the fact that you are messed up. Sitting alone in a park, crying as though no one would ever have seen me... Reaching into my bag nervously for a cigarette that I had never intended to smoke.

I remember few things... I remember being somewhat dizzy and randomly sobbing and clutching my head occasionally between drags as I drifted from the swings to a bench and then to the foot of the brightly painted slide. I remember taking in the sheer feeling of futility and how raw I felt in those moments as the gentle jets of light grey drifted out of my mouth and nose. I felt stupid and alone... I felt empty and cold despite the slight warmth bubbling in my chest.

The smell of smoke lingering around you as though it meant to echo how I was feeling on the inside - trapped.


--J.