Isn't this exactly where you'd like me?
The first thing you should know is that he payed me a visit last night. I think it was between the hours of 5 and 6 when we collided. We just looked at each other and there wasn't a single sound, but the sound of us breathing each other in. It was nice, the way everything seemed to pause for a minute. All sound and colour disappeared and we were left in a state of controlled lust. And then the next thing I knew, I was asking him to take a walk. Another 'him', another walk, it seems that walking is the only way I can deal with situations. I remember feeling his arm against mine and he felt warm and strong. Soon enough, walking turned into running andI don't know what happened after, but he disappeared and I was left alone.
That pain is back again. I'm sure you know which one I'm talking about. The aching, the pounding, the thinking,the breathing, the lack of concentration. But please, don't be too alarmed. I know what I'm doing and I'm aware that I cannot prolong this strange affair. It's not in my hands.
I'm exactly where you'd like me.
I'm trusting you with this revelation because only you can understand what I mean. If anyone else knew, I surely would not hear the end of it. I can only imagine the looks on people's faces, nevermind what they'd say if they knew. No matter how many warnings or well intentioned words of advice I'd be given, it'd all be a waste of breath.
I smile and nod. I am calm because this is not something I chose. I do not ask for his visits but I do admit to waltzing along in his chase. We go back and forth, I find my self wandering over to him and other times I spot him lingering around me, or I look up just in time for our eyes to meet in an forbidden embrace.
What a shame the poor groom's bride is a whore.
So then I walked out the doors only to have the truth hollered at me, ''Sinner! Oh my gosh, you even look like a sinner! I know you're a sinner, get over here'' and I knew by the most honest of ways that I'm tainted, ashamed and helpless.
This is a fever I can't sweat out.
I woke up Sunday afternoon after a tiring night. I walked over to the mirror and it took me a moment to realize that it was my face staring back at me; red lipstick outlining thin lips that were hiding a smirk, blackened eyes with an air of cluelessness, my hair falling around my shoulders in coils. I remember looking at my red and black eyelash extensions on my desk and feeling my fishnets under my feet where I stood. I couldn't help feeling like dispensible. Why? Because it was reflected back to me in the mirror and it only strengthened my belief that I am not worth that much.
I can't help but to wish for simple things, like people using my name to address me. Or even, holding the door open for me to pass through out of courtesy rather than as an act of obligation.
I don't know who to blame for this oddity but I hope you can bear with me through this time.
