When The Curious Girl Realizes She is Under Glass Again

At the moment, she didn’t know what she was looking for. But now, looking back on it from a place she had not been before, she realized that she was looking for a tether. It’s funny how we don’t understand what it is that we need until the moment that it hits us that we never had it.

She had a strange habit of turning off the lights when she walked into rooms with mirrors. Some thought it was weird, but to her the black was like a warm blanket that hid her from herself when she needed it. She was the happiest when the night was all around her, whispering to her to revel things that the daylight would laugh at. She didn’t understand a lot of things in life, but she did understand blackness and it understood her. So on that summer night, with the warm breeze kissing her sun burned skin and the rhythmic sound of the waves coaxing the knot out of her stomach, she thought about the boy. In reality, she hardly knew him. What she didn’t know at the time, was that it was never really about him anyway.

There’s something about the air in the fall that had always made her lungs feel like they had never breathed as they had at that very moment before. She was wearing a white shirt when she saw the boy for the first time since last year. Her heart raced a little and her brain rolled its eyes. She knew better than to feel like this, but as she breathed in that air, oh god that damn air, she convinced herself that maybe this was her chance. Maybe this was finally her chance to reach out and grab her life before it disappeared in the rear view mirror. So she jumped despite the warning that there was no safety net to catch her.

That night was the first time that she didn’t feel comfort in the enveloping darkness around her. Ironically, the black felt more white than it had ever before. He was polite and perfect and nice and for the first time in a long time she wanted to feel again. But under that dark blanket she had come to know so well, something happened that she could not fully comprehend at the time. She was wearing a black dress.

The air got colder and so did she. The boy moved on after that night and for some reason she felt everything and nothing at the same time. She turned to liquid cures and nights she wouldn’t remember. She pushed those closest away and pulled in any stranger without asking for their name the next morning. She was falling back into old habits. And the worst part was that she could feel herself doing it, and she did nothing to stop it from happening. She couldn’t trust the black, she couldn’t trust the white, and she couldn’t trust herself.

It was at 3am on a Saturday when she was naked on the yellow tile floor of her bathroom with her face in a toilet when she realized what she was looking for. She realized what this feeling was, this feeling that always seemed to find her no matter where she ran from it. She felt like she was drifting through life, like she was this small little particle of a person floating through the world and passing by things without the ability to stop in front of them. She was running to stand still. And that’s when she realized that it was never about the boy. She was looking for a tether. Something, anything, to stop her from drifting. A connection to the world around her.

And so she sat, naked, on the yellow tile floor and thought. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol that was pulsing through her veins, but for the first time she was scared. Scared of the darkness closing in around her, scared of the clock with the broken hand. Before she knew it the room went dark, and once again she was drifting. And the curious girl realized that she was under glass again.

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“When The Curious Girl Realizes She is Under Glass Again”

At the moment, she didn’t know what she was looking for. But now, looking back on it from a place she had not been before, she realized that she was looking for a tether. It’s funny how we don’t understand what it is that we need until the moment that it hits us that we never had it.

She had a strange habit of turning off the lights when she walked into rooms with mirrors. Some thought it was weird, but to her the black was like a warm blanket that hid her from herself when she needed it. She was the happiest when the night was all around her, whispering to her to revel things that the daylight would laugh at. She didn’t understand a lot of things in life, but she did understand blackness and it understood her. So on that summer night, with the warm breeze kissing her sun burned skin and the rhythmic sound of the waves coaxing the knot out of her stomach, she thought about the boy. In reality, she hardly knew him. What she didn’t know at the time, was that it was never really about him anyway.

There’s something about the air in the fall that had always made her lungs feel like they had never breathed as they had at that very moment before. She was wearing a white shirt when she saw the boy for the first time since last year. Her heart raced a little and her brain rolled its eyes. She knew better than to feel like this, but as she breathed in that air, oh god that damn air, she convinced herself that maybe this was her chance. Maybe this was finally her chance to reach out and grab her life before it disappeared in the rear view mirror. So she jumped despite the warning that there was no safety net to catch her.

That night was the first time that she didn’t feel comfort in the enveloping darkness around her. Ironically, the black felt more white than it had ever before. He was polite and perfect and nice and for the first time in a long time she wanted to feel again. But under that dark blanket she had come to know so well, something happened that she could not fully comprehend at the time. She was wearing a black dress.

The air got colder and so did she. The boy moved on after that night and for some reason she felt everything and nothing at the same time. She turned to liquid cures and nights she wouldn’t remember. She pushed those closest away and pulled in any stranger without asking for their name the next morning. She was falling back into old habits. And the worst part was that she could feel herself doing it, and she did nothing to stop it from happening. She couldn’t trust the black, she couldn’t trust the white, and she couldn’t trust herself.

It was at 3am on a Saturday when she was naked on the yellow tile floor of her bathroom with her face in a toilet when she realized what she was looking for. She realized what this feeling was, this feeling that always seemed to find her no matter where she ran from it. She felt like she was drifting through life, like she was this small little particle of a person floating through the world and passing by things without the ability to stop in front of them. She was running to stand still. And that’s when she realized that it was never about the boy. She was looking for a tether. Something, anything, to stop her from drifting. A connection to the world around her.

And so she sat, naked, on the yellow tile floor and thought. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol that was pulsing through her veins, but for the first time she was scared. Scared of the darkness closing in around her, scared of the clock with the broken hand. Before she knew it the room went dark, and once again she was drifting. And the curious girl realized that she was under glass again.

12:40 am

And all of a sudden it happened. I had read about it in books and seen it play across the features of famous actors, but I had never really felt it. There was no grand gesture, no fireworks, no song playing in the background. But I guess that’s life, it does not wait for you to realize what is happening to you, it just kind of happens. I do not think we ever really feel ready, or old enough, or strong enough for the things that happen to us. And sometimes we use this as an excuse to stray away from the things that call us to a higher state of being. No one is ever ready, but that’s the beautiful thing about it, a state of mind is created, not pre-meditated. . The chaos of life is where we find ourselves. So I dove headfirst into the cold water, not knowing if I would sink or swim but gripping firmly the faith that one day I would be better for it.

In Limbo

Anger seized her body like a cloud of smoke, finding its way into every pore it spied. It was a familiar rush, one that she had almost come to like in a way. Anger was always first; it was the easiest one. Then came self-loathing. She was fond of this old friend, finding comfort in it’s poison and it’s inability to disappoint. But the worst was last. It was when she was slumped against the blue wall when it came. Starting in the tips of her toes and traveling to the top of her head, completely wrecking everything in it’s path. She stared blankly ahead in an attempt to cover what was internal; ignoring the old saying about eyes and windows and souls.   It was the V word. She dreaded it with every fiber of her being and vowed that she would never ever let herself show it. She did not really know why, or where this hatred stemmed from. But she knew that to be vulnerable was a sin worse than murder to her. She literally could not find it within her to let her self feel it. And if by some muddled chance she did, she wanted to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Stuck in between, a forced limbo of sorts. And she stayed motionless until the feeling passed. Never shedding a tear, no faint sign of emotion flashing across her weary features. She did not know a lot of things. But numbness, numbness was familiar.

The Head and The Heart

Break your own heart before someone else can.  These were the words.  The words that echoed through my thoughts and forced their way into my actions; safety laced with poison.  The soft allure of numbness called my name like a siren and I was a wrecked ship in it’s ocean. Stuck on a jagged rock that made a sizable dent, finding it an acceptable fate and thanking God I was not tossed into the waves.  But with you it’s different.  The antidote to the call, the Achilles tendon of reason.  And I am a cowering child in your light that illuminates places in me that I have not seen for years.  I never liked vulnerability, I think it shares a bed with weakness and fragility. And so I avoid it like a plague, scared to hand someone on a silver platter the ability to rip me to shreds.  But I’m trying.  I’m trying not to make a mess of things with you, hiding the scissors so I cannot cut the cord.  Stuck in between the head and the heart, a common struggle of mankind. We pretend it’s a complicated choice.  But deep down I think we all know our answer.  We’re just too afraid to admit it to ourselves.

Matter

Words were spinning around her head and forcing her into a confused state of being where nothing was what it really was.  She was there, but she wasn’t really there, focused upon the chaos that seemed to continually thrust itself into her life.  But as she was walking with her arms folded across her chest, she heard a voice.  A voice that called out her name, and she turned to see the boy in the blue standing there.  And everything seemed to melt away. His words cut through her mind and forced everything into a higher state of being,  she felt like she was floating above it all.  And in that moment, a bomb could have gone off two feet away from her and she would not have noticed.  Because she had him, and that was all that mattered.

Hate

I hate the way

You have tainted my writing

A sad shade of black

I cannot seem to wash away

I hate the way

I feel at 2 am

When I remember how it was

And then how it is

I hate that

I let myself fall

Without a safety net

I hate the stupid look

Your eyes greet mine with

That resembles an abyss

But mostly I hate

How I cannot hate you

Nothing

She had lost hope.  And the horrifying part was the sigh of relief that her soul had seemed to take at absence of this emotion.  She told herself that the clever saw through hope, that inside it’s glass house was expectation, breeding an eternal feeling of inadequacy.  Tears rolled down her weathered cheeks but she didn’t feel their warmth. So she slept in the same bed sheets, hoping that somewhere within the worn fragments was a piece of what she used to feel so deeply. But all she really felt was suffocated, a side effect of the loss of the face that was a variable dressed as a constant.  That unspeakable reveal; that was what had murdered hope. And now all she really knew about herself was that deep within her lay a paradox.  One that was relieved at the loss of the ability to believe, but was also so intensely filled with fury at it’s inability to feel. She couldn’t let the fire burn out but she was terrified of igniting it in the first place.  And that is why she is, and always will, feel burdened to scream out everything that is inside her; but is too afraid of being left with nothing.

Void

She always felt like she was trying to fill some sort of void.  A hole, a hollowness that she could not possibly explain, but constantly felt.  She tried to fill it with quotes and phrases from old books, but their sweet words only seemed to be ephemeral- vanishing as soon as she had to sit back and watch others feel when she knew she was numb to the touch.  The realization of the void came slowly, over time.  A little piece discovered when she watched her best friends fall in love while she sat slumped against an indifferent concrete wall. Another when she saw her parents hang a white board in her younger sisters room that she had wished for when she was her age but never received.  But the most painstaking discovery, the one that forced her to be honest with herself came in the form of a set of eyes.  Eyes that she seemed to lose herself in, fooling herself into thinking that they would find her again. But all she found was a cold, empty look.  And in that moment she knew that she could scream at the top of her lungs and not a single person would really, truly hear her.  That is what the void was; she decided.  The void was like having your head shoved under water, you feel a sense of urgency, of desperation for air, but all you really feel is the numbness that the water creates around your face.  That contradiction, that inability to lift your head out of the water that took away your breath, the one thing that proves life; that was hollowness that consumed her.