She was a mess

She didn’t even want to go out that night. She didn’t want to put up with her friends laughing so loud her ears ringed, she didn’t want to hear any jokes or smile.

She looked at herself in the mirror; her big round eyes staring lifelessly back at her, her pale lips shivering ever so slightly.

“You’ve got to pull yourself together” she whispered to herself as she failed to put on some make up. She was empty; just a big blank space walking around and not interacting with the world at all. Everything changed and evolved around her, but she was stuck in a limbo, dead with a beating heart.

She rushed out of the bathroom and opened her closet, trying to pick a dress that would at least make her look a bit better. As the doors opened, a puff of air hit her in the face with the intensity of a thousand slaps. That scent, that feeling. How did it still linger around there after all this time? Like a curse that just wouldn’t leave her be, the burden came back to her all at once and left her speechless.  She covered her mouth with both hands and began to tremble like a baby.

Her phone rang. And it kept ringing, and ringing and ringing.

She was still crying when she heard three knocks on her door.

“Are you there? We need to leave right now! Why won’t you pick up the phone?”

They were here. She stumbled until she reached the sink and washed her face with freezing water. She was a mess: puffy red eyes, surrounded by big black rings of fucked up eyeliner, lips bleeding from biting them too hard.

She was the ugliest person in the world, the least desirable, the worst thing to ever have existed, and she knew it, she knew it too well. She was aware that she would never be happy, because she simply didn’t deserve it.  She got dressed whilst still pondering all of this, and rushed to open the door.

They gave her a pitiful smile, that smile that made her shrink up a bit every time. She was just getting tinier, disappearing.

“It’s okay, let’s go” she mumbled, trying to get her wet red locks to stop sticking into the side of her face.

It’s funny, because getting some fresh air was actually making her feel better, she was lighter on her feet, and the breeze messed up her hair a bit, but it was okay. She smiled for a little while and the neon lights made her white dress glisten in a dreamlike way.

They were just running on the streets. She followed, her heart beating, blood pumping to every part of her body, her cheeks turning red and her laugh sounding as sharp and innocent as a bell. Her scars didn’t hurt anymore, they faded away, they just became lines, then spots, then freckles.

They ended up in a bar, her heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird can move his tiny wings. She followed them to the bar, gasping for air and giggling like a child.

“What can I get you?”

Then she froze.

Those hands, she knew those hands. The hands that were offering her friends drinks were those hands. She recognized every single inch of them: the hairs, the spots, the rings… the tattoo.

Her heart kept beating just as fast, as she shrank once again, as the freckles became spots became lines became scars, as her white dress stopped reflecting the light, as her hair began to stick to the sides of her head. Everything went silent, her eyes fixated on those hands, not wanting to look up, not wanting to face him.

“Are you okay?” she heard faintly.

Nod. Smile. Drink.

She could feel them on her hips, she could feel them caressing her hair, and she could feel them holding her.

I love you. Drink. Keep drinking. Smile.

She felt the black rings around her eyes get bigger and bigger, covering her whole body, dragging her down, not letting her breathe. But those hands pulled her up, those hands were saving her once again.

When they got up and started walking away she dared to glance at him.

His eyes were watery, his lips curled, his hair messy.

She loved him so much it was destroying her.

She smiled and walked away.