Confession

I watch as I wait for that girl to come, the coffee shop seems quiet in the dusk, the customers speak in low murmurs, Sunday night, the people sipping one last drink before they start another week again.

 

I finish my coffee as I look at the sun descending into a brick  laden horizon, there would be no stars out tonight, it was cloudy a desperate day, it looked.

 

“Shall we start?” says a voice next to me, I didn’t even see her walk up to me, there is nothing remarkable about her, another page in my book, I take out my pen and lick the nib in a familiar motion, waving the pen in her direction to continue.

 

She smiles, the little curve by corner of her lips fascinate me, like secrets are hidden by those dear folds of skin.

 

You know I get tired of being me, I tired of being that girl, this is my confession, Father forgive me, listen and hear my words, the words in my heart and soul, the words unspoken in the tears that fall onto my pillow in the darkness, listen to the words so many times swallowed to make someone else happy.

 

Let me tell you how I dies, of how society killed me and my dreams. And why I keep coming back.

 

Once upon a time I had dreams, dreams so full of hope and colours, the stars in my eyes, and now those lights are dimmed, I forget what they were, my dreams you see, they kept me alive during the shadows that filled the dark corners of my childhood.

 

I grew up, the corners are now darker, the shadows thicker, and my dreams aren't as bright enough to keep me from sinking into their cobwebbed depths.

 

Sometimes, it takes all I have to hear myself speak, it takes all I have to keep going for another day, nothing differs you see, wake, get dressed, go to work, come home, get ready for bed, sleep, repeat.

 

It is a boring repetition, but it is good, it keeps my lines straight and my colours within. Some days are harder than others when I do truly wake, sometimes the tears come at inopportune times, like when you are making tea, or ironing clothes, maybe just cleaning your desk and then it all crashes down, the cold indifference of society.

 

My 5 year plan? no that is society's five year plan, t he masters, the imaginary-hopeful husband hunting, the future house in the making, thank you society for deciding it all for me. Thank you, yes I am being sarcastic.

 

Listen here as I speak.

 

Just let me be me for a day? no? I guessed that, being me would annoy you and anger you wouldn’t it.

 

Sorry that I am a bad human, I want to break down once in a while too, sometimes the pain is far too much for one person, and then you come and tell me about your unwanted problems, so I have to listen, I am too nice, if I am not nice I am a bitch, fuck you, I don’t give a damn about you, I don’t give a damn about your issues, your boyfriend or girlfriend, I don’t give a flying fuck about the time you got drunk and got your ex’s name tattooed on you ass, I am fucking tired of taking your shit, I don’t want to know how happy you are, why the fuck would I care, I wouldn’t care if the guy next door is actually banging his wife's sister, not my fucking problem.

 

You know why, its not my business, I have enough strays in my head without your faux-help, this masquerade is getting old, I know you lie, I know she lies, and you know that I am aware of your deception, so why keep going, you embarrass yourself, I cant turn to any of you bitches if I am in trouble, you would be of no help, why would I bother.

 

Listen here as I speak.

 

They ask me why I am alone, maybe its because I cannot bother, hah, or is it just something I tell people who I just do not want to talk to about it, am I afraid? of course, being alone is safe, no heartbreak, no drama, but sometimes I want to be selfish, I want someone for myself, I do not want a large love like a Taj Mahal, I do not want it to be a raging river, maybe a feather floating down in the wind, slowly, steadily surely, maybe I want it strong, I don’t want it to be a Romeo and Juliet, that would be sad and suicidal, maybe Macbeth, his lady was crazy but she did want what's best for him, No, I was what Sam and Frodo had, devotion and faith, I want someone to never give up on me, even though I might have given up on myself, I will wait for you Samwise Gamgee, and I will give as good as it gets.

 

Its not always bad you know, I have my good times too, but sometimes they are so far away, a month away a month gone, but when I do have them, I laugh till my heart is full of love, till its so full that it banishes the darkness and lightens the corners of my mind, Till the sun itself would be jealous of the brightness of the memories I have.

 

She sighs as she draws a star on the misted glass of the shop front.

 

Last month a friend I hadnt met in years talked to me, she asked me what I was doing during the weekend I told her I planned to stay in and read a book, she laughed, saying the girl she knew never did that,she asked me if I was joking and not really partying it up. No I wasn’t, I felt bad, I realized what had been taken from me, my light had been taken away, my hope still there, dim but not overtaken by darkness, my faith, hidden under coats of comfort, my will surrounded by bands of my strength and my heart, that poor bruised thing, she's in a woven basket by the fire, manhandled, nearly broken, let down so many times, but not out, not yet, that soft muscle of tissue, arteries and veins, she will keep beating, because she knows if not, her strength will falter, he faith will be doubted, her hope lost and her will battling for her.

 

I will keep going no matter how many times you push me down, you know why, Because I will not give you the satisfaction of failing, till I find my way to the mountains of Mordor, to drop in the unwanted weights that hang on to me.

 

Its colder now, a slight drizzle had started, the sir cool around us, I can see her breath cloud as she breathes out, looking into the sky.

 

Why don’t you fight back?

 

Because I will never be free, and my heart loves too much to hurt those who hurt me, to hate those who kill me everyday, to forget those who should forget.

 

That is my fault, I care, I care too much.

 

I close my notebook and I look at my muse, thank you, I tell her, for sharing your story with me.

 

It was..the least I could do, you know, she tells me silently, I can never say no, not when someone asks so nicely, smiling a sad smile she closes her eyes and turns her face skyward, catching the rain on her face.