"You're so mournful, ever so mournful, always so mournful." She said, emphasizing the tragedy of the situation as she took a delicate bite of the chocolate donut she held in her hand. ("Ishouldn'tbeeatingthis, I'msupposedtobeonadiet" says the voice in her head, and like all other unpleasant voices, is drowned out on a whim.)
"Truth is, I just don't see it anymore, me- who am I? What is this, what are we? How wonderfully existentialist of me to ask, how very Ayn Rand- perhaps one day I'll be one of those high-flying career women without a love but with..what's that word...job satisfaction? Yeah, and a six figure salary.
What's that? Expectations? I hate that word, though I do have an awful lot too, of course, don't we all? But I despise it. It sounds dirty, and cheap, like a trash fiction romance that we all want (admitit, tit? No. It. MovingON)in our lives but will never confess to. And yet we have them (expectations, not trashfic romances), will keep on nurturing them until they kill us from within- or maybe not. You can't kill that which never lived, yeah? Yeah.
Don't look at me so reproachfully with those pretty eyes, honey. You know all this is nothing new, I'm just saying it so it seems to be. We've heard it a lot, you and I, that the world is no place for us-primarily from ourselves. Believed it too. So I know, I know it's a bit of a shock when the high heavens don't open up to mark your passage into some transcendental, parallel reality. You're as normal, as ordinary as that clerk who's stuck in a strictly average 9-to-5 job, as that beggar who(that?) was knocking with his filth encrusted knuckles on your car's window. It's just that the filth is within you. It's your heart that's covered in it.
Don't be so defensive. It's only just me, and I know you inside out. I see you everyday, we've spent our lives together. You can't hide that face from me, you know it too."
She finished eating that donut, daintily licked the tips of her fingers, moved from in front of the mirror. Monologue over.
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2 comments:
this was cold. very cold. scary even. in its honesty. not implying that youre cold ofcourse.. but,... well written..
Was it? I just thought it was blatantly honest. But I suppose it kind of was cold. Thanks though =)
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