My First Choice Was Taken

I had a dream that you were the lighting in my bedroom.

You kept flickering, so I replaced the lightbulb with a music box and we listened to the broken record together.

There was a time, I remember, when I would do anything to be with you. To see you smile. To make you happy. (And I do mean anything. Do you remember that time when we.. Oh, nevermind.)

If you had offered me your hand then, and had said ”I’d like to go away somewhere. Would you join me?” I’d have told you ”Yes ma’am,” and there we would be in God-knows-where and I know I would have been happy.

But here we are. I saw you this morning, and you asked me if I’d like to take a walk. I told you it was cold outside; it was raining. And you said “Of course; that’s the fun of it.” And there I was, and there you were, and you managed a smile and a wave and you said “I suppose I’ll see you in a while.”

I remember a time when I couldn’t fathom my life without you. I knew that somewhere, somehow, you had been put together just for me, and I for you. Now, I worry about our house, the bills, what’s on TV, those little microwavable soup bowls. I worry about our computer. I worry about my browser history.

And I don’t hold it against you darling, when you’re out with the guy from the gym, or the book club, or the poetry café. Afterall, I was the one who was supposed to go with you. But I had something I needed to do at home, remember? And I haven’t been feeling well. And gosh, it’s cold outside, isn’t it?

And I don’t suppose it’ll be getting warmer any time soon, darling. So here we are. Here I am and there you are, just waiting for the other to say something. Wondering how long it’s going to take.

And there he was, in the midst of everything he had created. The drugs, the drinking, the late nights trying to piece his world back together. After everything he had been through, after all the screaming and crying and cursing and begging and forgiving and regretting and forgetting and remembering, he was still just as lost as he was the day that you left.

I’m listening, I really am, but please don’t get the wrong idea. I’m analyzing you. I’m making observations about the tone in your voice, the way you brush your hair back behind your ear. I’m choosing my words carefully when I speak to you, but I’m not trying to make you feel better. I’m testing you, I’m judging your reactions, because I want to know how you work. I want to know what makes you the way you are, because one day I’ll write about someone like you, and I want those words to be convincing.

You’ll be the vague impression behind the concept behind my words, and that’s all you’ll ever be to me. And really, deep down, I wish we could be friends. I do, but I can’t help but notice the way you laugh when you’re nervous, and the way your left pinky twitches. I notice the way you tell jokes when you’re upset. The way you smile when I smile.

And after all we’ve been through together, after everything we’ve shared, all I’m thinking is how great of a character you’ll be when I write you down.

Right now, I am debating whether or not I want to walk to the corner store to buy a bottle of coke.

I am also putting off working on a new pattern so that I will have an excuse to be upstairs when company comes over.

For Halloween, she dressed up as herself.

No one recognized her at the party.

Sometimes, she would think about committing suicide, but she never went through with it. She didn’t want to be remembered as that ugly girl who killed herself.

So maybe, it was a good thing she never realized how beautiful she was.

Tracy doesn’t buy nice clothes.

Sometimes, she sees something through the window. A dress, a cute pair of boots. She sees the cashier, the people walking by, and all the horrid thoughts race through her head. She gives everyone a voice.

The young boy in the blue shorts. Mom, I thought that dress was for skinny girls?

She envisions walking up to the woman at the counter. She imagines that condescending stare as the cashier carefully scans through the clothes she’s picked, one at a time.

You really think you can pull this off, hun?

So she keeps on walking, before anyone notices her looking through the glass. Before anyone feels embarrassed for her. She tells herself that one day, she’ll be pretty too. One day she’ll buy that cute dress.

One day, she’ll be confident.

moyru replied to your post: Tonight we went out to dinner. We saw one woman…

whaaaaaat

Yeah, there was an ambulance in the parking lot with the lights flashing. When we went inside there were paramedics taking a woman out of the restaurant on a stretcher. She looked 20-something, and there were 2 guys with her who seemed worried/concerned.

Then the hostess waved and went “Hi! For two?” and she took us to our table. People in the restaurant seemed kind of awkward, but kept eating/talking, like they were trying not to stare.

Tonight we went out to dinner.

We saw one woman being taken away on a stretcher, and an entire room of people who were pretending not to notice.