Can you believe what I tell you? Or is your trust already lost? Now I can explain what happened, Fearing the answer you may give Erase who you thought I was She doesn’t even exist Something you never would have thought I used you for my own pleasure Our connection was never real Nothing can repair that pain
Grace stared at her hands. They were shaking again. Even when it came to family she couldn’t keep her composure. A deep breath filled her lungs in an attempt to calm herself. After making the decision to tell her grandparents today, Grace’s thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. What would they say to her? Surely, they would be angry as they were both raised strictly catholic. Would they try to forbid her from leaving the church? She shook off the thought with a sigh and corrected her posture. Now was not a moment to break down. Grace walked towards her grandparents, who were both sitting in the living room. Nervously, she sat down on the couch and, with her heart pounding in her chest, asked in a faint voice, “I need to tell you both something, can we talk for a minute?”. Grace’s grandfather looked over at her grandmother, waiting for her approval. She nodded at him silently. “Sure”, her grandfather answered, shifting in his chair, “What is it?”. He crossed his arms, awaiting her response. It was always like this with them. Grace’s grandfather was at the forefront of their marriage but her grandmother was always the one who was truly in control. “Well”, Graces voice broke. She couldn’t believe she was this scared of them. Sure, they had always been strict with her but she had made this decision months ago and was just waiting for the right moment to tell them. If she was being honest with herself, the Catholic Church never fit her ideals and she simply no longer wanted to squeeze herself into that box. All those stuffy old priests and scandals, not to mention the way they used people for money. She was of the opinion that not much had changed about this church since medieval times. She didn’t know if she believed in god but she knew she didn’t want to support such an organization anymore. “I know you guys are very religious”, she continued whilst staring at the floor, “and that this family raised me to be the same. But that just isn’t who I am”, Grace sucked in a sharp breath, as if to brace herself, and looked up at them. Her grandfather was already scowling while her grandmother merely watched her intensely. She decided to hold eye contact with her as she finished her statement. “I don’t believe in the teachings of the Catholic Church and what they stand for so I have decided to leave the church”. Her hands clung to each other in an effort to comfort herself. Keeping her eyes fixed on the ground, she waited for her grandparents’ response. As if this conversation itself wasn’t difficult enough, the silence that ensued threatened to deafen her. After what felt like minutes, the grandfather breathed in and out heavily before stating sharply, “I am deeply disappointed by this”. Grace’s heart sank in her chest. Even though she had prepared for this scenario, it felt like he had just torn a hole into her stomach. Of course, he would react this way. But couldn’t he have a little bit of compassion? Couldn’t he see her point of view? A well of tears was about to burst from her eyes. Maybe she should never have told them. Choking on her tears, Grace bitterly whispered “Thanks for listening”. She stood up and left the room. Closing the door to the bathroom behind her, she sank against it, finally releasing the tension that had built up. There she stayed for several minutes, sobbing on the bathroom floor. After she was finished, she wiped her face dry and looked in the mirror. The woman she saw was so far away from the woman she hoped to be. But at least, she thought, this was the first step to becoming that person she so desperately longed to live as.
I don‘t love you. The words ring in my head like an echo. I‘ve been telling myself that for months. My heart is pounding in my chest and my breath is flat and hectic as I rush to meet you. I don’t love you, I think, as I fix my hair so you won‘t see it messy. Though I doubt you would care. Then, there you are, your blue eyes piercing me and making my racing heart stand still for a second. I don‘t love you. Nervously I step towards you, unsure of whether you actually want me here. I‘ve missed you but I don‘t think you feel the same. Is it okay to get close to you? Your scent hits me and immediately I’m transported back to the time before the pain, before the lies. We used to hold each other for hours but things are different now. You always felt like home to me. Now, home has turned into a stranger. I’m having trouble keeping eye contact. Is it because I’m afraid of what will happen if I do? I don’t love you, I repeat to myself. But it’s too late. Without saying a word, you pull me close. It’s not just a hug, it’s an embrace. I hold you tightly, breathing you in like that could make me remember you forever. As if clinging to you physically could keep you from abandoning me and undo the times you left me out in the cold. All i can feel is you and your arms around me as the world stands still. Seconds pass, maybe minutes, but it makes no difference. Time doesn’t matter now. Whatever happened between us doesn’t matter now. I’m home and it feels like this moment could last forever. I love you.
I squeeze my fists and clench my jaw, as Luca watches me with a blank stare. I never could tell what was going on in that head. Maybe that’s what made me so interested in him. “We really need to talk this out”, I whisper, taking a step towards him. No reaction. I roll my eyes in frustration. “I just need to know why”, I say, suprised at the quivering of my own voice. Finally, he sighs, “I don’t think you want me to tell you”. “Of course I do!”, I yell at him. Turning away from Luca, my hands rush to cover my face. My face has probably turned bright red and I don’t want to show my hand any more than I already have. My friends always tell me I’m terrible at hiding my true feelings. That was always my downfall. My feelings. “Look”, Luca murmurs, “I just don’t want to hurt you any more”. I clap my hands together as I laugh hysterically. “Excuse me?!”, I blurt, facing towards him again, “You don’t want to hurt me? Do you have any idea of what you’ve done?”. Now it’s his turn to be embarrassed. Avoiding eye contact, he takes a couple steps back, creating distance. Although I suppose that’s nothing new. Over the past year there has been nothing but distance between us. “I know I treated you terribly”, he admits, looking over his shoulder. My heart is pounding in my chest and my head at the same time, tensing my entire upper body. “I needed you”, I hiss, “I was counting on you and instead of being my friend”, my words getting louder and more agitated, “you manipulated me and used me to make yourself feel better”. “I know”, he mutters as his shoulders sink. Then, suddenly, he looks up at me with his beautiful icy blue eyes and reaches to take my hand. I shiver as I remember the time when that was an absolutely normal thing for him to do. “But you could have broken off contact or gotten back at me. I was a total menace. Nobody should have to deal with that”, he said while burning holes into the ground with his stare. “But I thought you were just going through a phase. I was waiting for the old Luca” I swallow, “My sweet, kind, funny Luca to return”. “He doesn’t exist anymore. Sorry to disappoint you and sorry for the hurt I caused.” , Luca states dryly and starts walking in the other direction. “Wait!”, I call after him with tears streaming down my face. Tears that have been waiting for months to come out. “I don’t want to lose you, I-“, I take a deep breath. Do I really want to say this? At this point, it doesn’t even matter anymore. “I love you”. The words leave my mouth as a soft whisper, guided out by the silent crying that just won’t seem to stop. Whatever happened this past year, this has remained the unspoken truth. But my relief leaves my body as soon as I catch a glimpse of his face. His eyes soften in sympathy and his lips are pressed together. Now we can never go back.
The room was dimly lit. You could see dust settling in the beams of light streaming through the cracks of the curtains. They fell onto varied piles of books resting next to the bed maade of weathered wood. It was full of mismatched blankets and pillows, all of which were colorfully patterned. Though the rest of the room wasn’t as colorful, it looked every bit as chaotic. It seemed as though the room was inhabited, but neglected at the same time. Everywhere you looked, there were piles of books and clothing. Having been absentmindedly thrown into heaps on the creaking floorboards, the clothes resembled a landscape of hills and valleys. They gave off a smell that reminded you of an old thrift shop or a flea market. Pens lay scattered across the desk, between piles of paper and books. On top of one of these stacks rested a plant which was already old and withered. Its dry leaves hung from the stem like a person that had already given up hope. The walls however, were neatly filled. Two pictures, one of a man in a suit dancing with a young child in a summer dress on his toes and one of a woman wearing a light blouse, smiling ever so slightly towards the camera, were placed right next to the window. Some other pictures were hung up in a square on the wall across from the bed, where the desk stood. It had clearly been a lot of effort to create this shape, as the pictures were all made up of different sizes. Above the headboard of the bed itself there were a couple of posters and post cards, aesthetically arranged next to each other, so that the wall looked like a piece of art. Even though there wasn’t much light, there was enough to illuminate the light beige color of all four walls and the ceiling, which all seemed to be evenly coated. The entire room seemed to be a paradox in itself.
I am made entirely of flaws, stitched together by good intentions. I’ve always simply wanted to be a good human being. But how can you fulfill a wish like that with a history of scars? So instead of healing, I’ve spent my life on the run bleeding.
My flaws don’t define me, but they disrupt my relationships. I could never figure out how to be whole, how to be normal. But how could I be whole when I’ve only been ripped apart? The only time I’m put together is when I’m polite and formal.
Of course, that applies to strangers, who can’t see my flaws. In friendships, in love, I’ve only ever wanted to be good. But how could I be good when the world is full of malice? I’ve always had good intentions but I’m just misunderstood.
Surely, if they knew who I am, if they could see into my core, They’d never question my flaws because they’re human But even being human, how does that justify hurting others? No matter what I do, my intentions are just effort I put in.
They will never be enough to cover my numerous flaws. I’ve spent so long trying to hide them, running away. But how do I expect people to understand the hidden? I need to find the courage to heal, maybe I can someday.
If somebody asked me My greatest fear Id talk about life Without you here You see life would seem dull If you went away Id be bored forever Living day after day Without all my joy Without all my soul Id be wasted forever And Id never be whole If I never knew you Which, thank god, I do Id never feel fulfilled I wouldn't know who Could in fact convince me That soulmates exist Who'd accept me always? Who'd show me true bliss? The meaning of friendship Is not second-place If I didn't have you I wouldn't let myself be embraced.
