I am going to live to be one hundred and twenty I tell you as we lay in the afterthought of bliss. Your inquisitive nature begs you to ask me why and I say “just cuz.”
I do not think I can cross this world and explore all of her crevasses and divinity in a mere 60 years. If this is what twenty two years of life looks like, then I am going to need 5 times as many 22 years to get it right. 5 times as many 22 years to breath in the sun, take in her warmth, and expel it out of my chest to blind the haters. Thats right, at twenty two you come to learn that some people just like to throw stones to see how long it takes for the glass to break but jokes on you because you cannot break glass if the sun is shinning so bright off of it that you cannot see it.
There are many rooms in my house of glass. So many you will get lost. Lost in the memories that replay in my head every day, each in its own beautifully decorated room with drapes of spiderwebs wrapped around each box sealed tight with the remnants of memories too unpredictable to let out. One minute this box is torn up sketches of a night I don’t entirely remember and the next its a masterpiece painting depicting a drunk girl crying at her own demise. Crying at what she has lost. Not all who are wander are lost but trust me all who say they are lost are indeed lost. It’s like I’ve searched through dozens of maps just to find my way and each one leads to a dead end. Another… you should have done this, another joke to ease the pain but guess what, with each joke you are just chipping away at the soul that is already halfway gone.
You say it sounds like I fear death. I tell you it is not the death I fear, it is the rebirth. You tells me there is none, its just peace. But how will I know if I am not there. I have been taken over by the darkness before, chipped away until there was nothing, that is to say I had died. I have died each time I think about that drunk girl. That drunk girl died. That drunk girl never found herself again. She died and peace was not the end result. How can you know what comes after death when you have not had your soul ripped from your body and been forced to find it again? Been forced to scream out into the unknown hallows of each bone of mother earth searching for some remnants of who you used to be, of who you are, only to find that the coyotes are already feasting on the marrow of these bones, chopping into them until they are nothing but the dust that makes up the sand.
How I am supposed to find myself in the sand? A million souls that in the end amount to nothing, but in a body makes up the whole of a person. Sugar means nothing when it is by itself but when it is taken out of a cake no amount of Splenda or Teavia can make it taste like an actual cake and my sugar was stolen from me. Stolen by a boy who thought himself a god. Looked in the mirror and saw a strong unwavering force. When I looked at him, I saw anger. Red cheeks flushed with a tint of alcohol, hushed voice with the tone of the devil, I am scared. You see the devil and god aren’t that different when you break it down both take lives for their own bidding one just happens to say he does it in love while the other one does not lie about who he is. At least he’s honest, at least he doesn’t claim love and steal souls in the same breath. At least he’s predictable. He was so predictable. Sweaty drunk boy with strong groping hands. I should have known. I should have known my soul was about to be extracted from my body. I thought I was prepared to fight.
My mother warned me about boys like you. Warned me about what to look for, how to leave, what to scream. But she never prepared me for this. Soft whispers weaving their way down my throat and blocking my vocal cords. Stones wrapping theirselves around my limbs keeping me from moving, blackout. My soul has left my body and I no longer know who I am.
So no, I am not afraid of death. I am afraid of men who take life. Men who think they have been invited to the exhibit and then steal the Monalisa. Men who leave me with a lifeless body and SHHH don’t tell anyone.