“My love is so strong for him, but his love for me is only beginning to germinate. If I have such discernible love to give, why is his so invisible to the eye?” As I drank another sip of my white, Mary agreed subtly with my statement and joined me in my pity party of sorrow. “Camille, he gives polemics as excuses and sets a precedent for blindness and ignorance being allowed and praised in a relationship, you sound like nothing more than his pawn.” I had to agree with her statement, as he had created precepts for justifying a dangerous -- if not fatal -- relationship. “I feel as though I was a puppet and his cold hands were inside of my stuffed lining, controlling my every move and function.” I had to whisper this part to Mary, as we were surrounded in this pub by women prowling for gossip and men hoping for drunken luck. “Camille, let’s go dance and waste our worries away!” I quietly agreed, shaken by how fast she passed off the conversation as a small conflict. She had delineated my relationship down to the last bit of truth, but as swiftly as she had knocked down walls, she began cruising towards the dance floor. Before she could move her feet, she yelled, “Waiter, please bring me the bottle!” I had to follow, hoping the live music could numb the dead blue of the mood. We were an interdependent duo, and she always knew how to heighten the mood. As I danced I felt the weight of the world leap off of my shoulders and warmth spreading throughout my body. My head became lighter as my feet tapped on the floor. My soon to gleam smile became conspicuous, not just to everyone in the room, but to a familiar stranger. I closed my eyes and gave power to my body, gliding where it must, mollifying my mind and moving slowly, swiftly towards my next adventure. A sorrowful ending must always lead to a beautifully tragic beginning, and he was mine. As soon as you could drop a pin, my body leapt into his and I could feel such exuberance race to me. Just as quickly as the excitement had come, it had left once my body tip-tip-thudded onto the hard dance floor. What a sight of embarrassment! I thought to myself, which is shocking since my thoughts now became a fiery collapsing building. I had lived in a pseudo-reality of love for some time, yet this past relationship brought me to reality, although I had first refused to face the music. I had new hope in this rank and drunken bar, but as history will repeat itself, I’ve left with nothing more than a stained dress and empty glass. As I ran down the dark alleyway, I could hear the small and tired squeaks of vermin passing me, searching for some old apple core or, if they were lucky, an only slightly moldy pizza. What rapacious creatures they are, taking what they please as if the world is theirs. You can’t blame them though, who else would want the scraps?
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November 2018
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