un-mixed

we meet in the gardens. we sit by the lake and look out over the water. it's really more like a duck pond.

he loves me.

i knew that, i just didn't want to admit it. i wanted to flirt, but i didn't want to be in love. does that mean it's all my fault?

i can't do this now. two months ago i was on the brink of killing myself. i still can't eat three meals a day without wanting to puke. i need to get better first.

i say i'm not ready. he says there's no rush. i say," if you can wait for me, fine. but if not, then that's okay too. i'm not the only girl there is."

he says, "i know. if i find anyone who can compare to you then i'll think about it. i don't think that would happen though."

we live in a small town. do we need to settle for each other?

i try not to cry. then i say, "i'm sorry i'm not who you thought i was."

he tells me it's okay, it's just made him like me even more.

he hugs me hard before i get into my car. "friends?" i say. "friends," he says.

whatever that means.

what happens next?

this morning mother tells me that she was woken up early because someone had sent her a text. for some reason i think it was him. while she's in the shower i go into her bedroom and look through her phone.

i'm right.

he wants to meet her tomorrow to "ask advice about some things". am i egocentric to think it has something to do with me? he told me that i always make him smile. what does he need? what does it mean?

the beginning? or the end?

i have a strange feeling that one chapter is finished, but i don't know where the next one begins.

sparkly

we go to midnight mass - it's my first time. we sing carols and stand up and sit down and listen to the choir. the cathedral is beautiful.

we look at the priest and a says, "the father usually has a beard". (he used to be a catholic.) i say, "like santa?" he says, "no, like a wizard. like gandalf." i laugh and he smiles at me - that twinkly smile that says "we have a secret". my sister pokes me, "not supposed to laugh in church."

afterwards we walk around the cathedral, just him and me. it's awkward, but nice. then he gives me a christmas present. just me. my sister says, "how sweet".

i agree.

at home i can't sleep. i'm so giddy and glittery that i want to run or dance or sing. at church in the morning he tells me that he couldn't sleep either - not until 4am. he makes me happy.

christmas is my favourite time of year. i'm happier now than i have been in a long long time. it's only going to get better.

i haven't even opened my presents yet.

the future

the evening is dizzy, my legs cramp from my shoes and my dress makes it hard to breathe. i try to keep smiling. weddings are happy times. i am not a scrooge.

before the reception i sit and watch him playing pool. i'm dying inside. i'm jealous of the beautiful bride and her husband - the knight in white armor. i want to fast forward to the time when we can be together.

when i get home i think of sylvia plath.

"i took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. i am. i am. i am."

i get in bed and close my eyes. i listen to my fragile heart ticking over once, twice, three times.

i am not.

but i will be.

we will be.

great expectations

star light, star bright

first star i see tonight,

i wish i may, i wish i might,

have the wish i wish tonight.

i hate the way they box me up, wrap me in tissue, tie a bow around the top. tying me in place. "this is your future" they say.

uncle says it's not long 'til i'm finished my degree now. he says then i'll get married and live happily ever after. mum says that i better start looking for the white horse prince now.

what if he never comes? the prince i mean. and what if those are not my dreams? what if i don't know who i am or what i want? i wish i knew.

i wish i was free.

i wish i was happy again.

responsible

the weekend drags on and on. i am an overstuffed porcelain doll in a pastel green dress. i look like i will break. i smile and hug people i don't know and kiss those i do. i laugh and eat liqueur chocolates until i can't eat any more.

inside i'm breaking.

in the plane on the way home i rest my head against the window. the sun drops, its golden beams gleaming against the water, making a pathway towards the horizon. tears drip down my icy face. it's useless to try and wipe them away.

two years ago he told me he used to slice himself with glass, letting out the feelings that hurt too much to say.

he's been dead since august. i didn't know.

at home i take one pill too many. serotonin creeps through the secret tunnels in my body. i go to sleep.

unlike him, i wake up.