Unloved at First Sight

I remember the precise moment I stopped loving him.
We had gone out to dinner.
I was just getting back from the lady's room.
He looked up at me and smiled.
His eyes, I noticed, were dead and lifeless.
Not even a dull glimmer of light remained. 
I blinked
thinking eyes would appear in the two gaping holes in his face.
They only grew deeper.
He looked at me quizzically.
Perhaps something in my expression had given me away.
I sat down beside him
avoiding looking at what had once been a pair of chlorine blue eyes.
It was as if something had changed in the time it took me to use the restroom. 
When I left everything was normal.
But when I came back he was no longer the man I loved. 
I denied it for a while,
dismissing it as a feeling that would pass just like indigestion. 
But it never did.
It only worsened.
An unexplainable bitterness began to build up inside me.
Today I looked through some old photos of us
and realized that I'd imagined those chlorine blue eyes of his
because he'd never had eyes of his own to begin with.
Funny howI was the one with the eyes and I was blind the whole time.
Maybe I should pluck my eyes out.

An Alcoholic's Affair

His touch was too eager.
Almost as if he was afraid
She would evaporate into thin air.
She wanted to.
But she laid there instead
as he murmured drunken slurs into her ear.
She could taste the bitter fluid on his tongue.
He never seemed to want her when he was sober anymore.
It made her feel utterly repulsive.
Was it her unsatisfactory performance
that had driven him to his alcoholism?
Or had her looks deteriorated so rapidly
that the thought of touching her was sickening?
Perhaps this is why his movements were always so rushed now.
He wanted to get it over with.
Maybe he no longer enjoyed it
but saw it as a right of passage he had worked so hard to earn
he felt obliged to indulge. 
Frankly, she no longer cared
to know the answer to these questions.
She felt his body convulsing on top of her -
a sign that he was close.
So she closed her eyes
and clenched her jaw.
"It'll be over soon" she thought.

Excerpt #2

                Mondays. Everybody hates Mondays. And with good reason. I woke up around noon and dragged myself to the bathroom to run the water for my bath. Pulling off my nightgown I staggered towards the bathroom mirror. It had already begun to fog up so I wiped away the steam with my hand. I yawned and stared at myself for a moment. I’m disgusted by the sickly looking girl that’s looking back at me. The mirror fogs back up again, and I welcome it --- not wanting to look at the ghost trapped inside the glass.

                I slip into the tub as the water is still running. The warmth of the steam emanating for the water hugs my body and pulls me deeper into its depths. I hug my knees to my chest, resting my head on my knee caps and watch the water level rise. I turn the handle that turns off the water once it is a good three fourths full.

                The water seems warmer today. My pores scream, silently begging for a break from the unbearable heat. I don’t listen. I sink down in the tub so that everything below my neck is engulfed in the flames of the water. The screams are drowned out with silence. A sigh of contentment eases its way from between my lips.

                I wish I’d opened a window. The room is humid and I find it difficult to breathe. My eyes close. Maybe I fell asleep for a moment or two. It’s hard for me to distinguish between sleep, and wakefulness these days. So let’s just say I fell asleep. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes later when I opened my eyes again.

                My mind was still racing with thoughts of revenge for the betrayal I felt. I was sad, I was mad, I was everything in between. I waited for the numbness to settle in, but it never came. The ever present numbness I so often felt was gone without the slightest trace. Oh how I longed for numbness now.

Jenny

I guess I’m a liar.

I told them I would meet them at the fair at seven.

I told them I was on my way at eight.

But I was lying in his arms.

I laid there in between the sweaty sheets twirling the purity ring around on my finger. He was asleep in a few minutes. I rolled over on my side, clutching the sheets to my chest and let the tears fall soundlessly to my pillow. I was lying in bed with a thief. He’d taken my virtue. I could report it stolen, but who would return it?

I drew my legs to my chest, pulling myself into a ball. The tremors rolled through my body like thunder. Holding in the gasps that shrieked inside my chest caused a burning like sensation at the base of my throat.

In anger, I tossed back the sheets and sat up; letting my legs dangle over the side of the bed and onto the shag carpeted floor. I wiggled my toes as my legs swung back and forth. Instinctively my hands caressed my stomach. The tears returned once more, streaking down my face and dripping onto my bare thighs.

I looked down at the silver band on my ring finger. The silver band with the words: true love waits inscribed in loopy cursive. I pushed the finger into my mouth, wetting it with my tongue. I pulled it out and twisted it loose, sliding it off of my finger. I turned back towards him and threw into onto the bed as I stood.

Standing there before the full length mirror pulling my hair back into a pony tail I realized that the girl the mirror reflected had a face different from my own. She looked sad and bitter – two things I was in short supply of.

Then I smiled at her and she smiled back at me.

There I am.

The Aimless Mind of a Brooding 19 Year Old

She spent her whole life dreaming. Everything and everyone she encountered told her
to stop. “It’s a waste of time” “It’s not healthy” “Grow up” they’d say. And eventually she
started to believe the things people said. She wanted big things - for herself and for
others, but it didn’t take long for her to realize the importance of settling. It made things
easier and she had the tendency to complicate them without even trying. She felt
isolated from the world just outside her door but she didn’t know how to change that or if
she even wanted to. The best things in life tend to waste away after a matter of
moments. They pass away as if they’d never existed. Maybe she’d imagined them all.
She began to condition herself to expect disappointment. It worked for a little while, but
hard as she tried to shield herself from the pains of everyday life - the bullet always
seem to find her. It always came, without fail and pierced her heart with little regard for
the repercussions. She longed for the day she would be good enough for the people
she loved. Maybe you had to earn it, and she hadn’t yet collected enough gold stars to
pick out of the treasure box.