A Series of Unspoken Thoughts

A Portfolio by Mackenzie Layne

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Prologue

The Questions I Ask Myself

(Un)known;

Shadowed

Phoenix Waters

20 Steps to Stop Yourself from Falling in Love

Remind Me

Prologue

This portfolio is a series of unspoken thoughts (not just a title). A lot of it is inspired by my last relationship, and all the conversations we had or could’ve had. From the moment we met, to the moment I started having an epiphany that I needed to be on my own for a while, and vice versa. However, through all of it, I owe a lot to him for being my inspiration. For years, I had none because I wasn’t allowed to. I wasn’t allowed to read or write without feeling guilty. My brain functioned solely on what my ex wanted rather than what I wanted or needed. That was before I met him. Falling for him was easy. Not only was he the complete opposite of what I was used to, but he just made everything so…simple. My brain is always going a hundred miles per hour and never shuts down, and he is like air; cool, crisp, going through life like a breeze. He never ceases to amaze me. But, the current we were going in, made me blind. My catastrophic habits that I picked up, and his mellow go-with-the-flow persona made it so complicated for us. We would butt heads, and argue over little things (at least it provided me with good writing material). I wanted/needed a plan, or reassurance from him. Something permanent. Reflecting back on it, he wasn’t ready to give me what I deserve, which is why I ended up pushing him away. He may have motivated me to write everything I did, and I will forever owe him my deepest gratitude for helping me find that spark again, but sometimes life just gets in the way, and everything that existed just seems small compared to everything that could possibly exist. My dreams and ambitions are a lot bigger than I anticipated and we both need room to grow on our own.

That’s what this portfolio is about and all the techniques that I’ve learned throughout. Going through phases of stressful situations (like an entire portfolio disappearing), while also going down a path of self-discovery of love and loss, is a lot to comprehend all at once; so I did it in small doses with the fictions I wrote. Each story was some kind of challenge for me. At first, it was just what I would envision any young writer thinking as they wrote; some of which were thoughts on my own. Would this person still support me if I was having negative thoughts? Would they write back to a person who couldn’t tell the difference between reality and fantasy? When do the lines blur? And so, the story of Adam and Zoe was born. Fun fact: my name was supposed to be Zoe which is why she’s inspired by the thoughts I never said aloud. Almost like she’s what I would’ve been like in a parallel universe. So with each story I had to think about what it would’ve been like to have an unwanted conversation throughout this semester: whether it was possibly being delusional, PTSD from an assault, an unwanted pregnancy, a list that admit one's faults, or even dreading the idea of a wedding that isn’t their own. I had to consider what would’ve happened throughout; how I could’ve applied it to the topic for the week. It was something new to me to have some kind of fundamental guideline rather than just sit and write. It’s something that I wasn’t really used to.

Another thing this past semester made me realize, I’m a lot harder on myself than I give myself credit for. I wasn’t really expecting anyone to relate to these topics or actually enjoy them until after I got their feedback; especially with my workshop piece. My workshop was probably the most memorable out of all the stories I wrote. It was the one I stressed the most about, but yet it somehow worked. I thought, “who would like this story? There’s an entire page of the narrator showering and putting her makeup on. There’s no possible way anyone would like this.” I didn’t know how wrong I could be. That was some people’s favorite. It was the most vulnerable I’ve been with my writing, and I think that’s why people saw the beauty in it.

These few short stories are reminders that there's beauty in vulnerability and that it’s never too late to learn and grow from writing. I hope my writing continues to grow with my college years to come, and more so after. There’s always room for improvement; it’s time I start acknowledging that rather than expecting perfection each time.

The Questions I Ask Myself

As I began to feel my eyes well up with tears from the anxiety that shook me to the core, I picked up my phone and began typing a draft in my notes.

Dear Adam,

The other day you asked if I knew I always wanted to be a writer. The answer is yes, and it has taken over my life. I started creating stories that were imaginative and hyper realistic, the moment I learned how to read. I would stay up late at night with a flashlight underneath my covers and create my own characters to already existing ones. Intertwining their world with my own. It then turned into writing down my own stories influenced by the media that was being produced at the time. However, sometimes my imagination becomes overwhelming and I can’t remember what was real and what was fiction. Did I have that conversation with that person? Did I really kiss Prince Charming? Did I have sex with a stranger? The random images that flash through my brain, make it so I don’t know who I am anymore. Did they happen in a previous life perhaps? Is there even such a thing as reincarnation? Does that mean that fate exists? If so, is my fate already sealed and I’m just asking bull shit questions for the hell of it? What is my conscience trying to tell me? My thoughts are a catastrophic, jumbled, scattered mess of ideas, fantasies, and dreams of what has happened throughout my lifetime, or what could’ve happened. Maybe even the impossible. It has become inevitable to get lost in any unspoken thought. If I say these thoughts aloud, I’m viewed as an enemy, but if I withhold them, I slowly lose my sanity. Being a creator has made me romanticize trauma. I want to have my heart broken because then I can write about the pain and suffering. I want to have someone say they love me just so I can give them my all and they just stomp on it in return. I want to create that drama. I want to make it as realistic as possible. I want someone to make me feel safe and secure just to strip it all away without cause. Readers love a good plot twist. I can inspire others with the love and loss that I have witnessed. Reading others’ stories has transformed me as an empath; I not only sympathize and can relate to their issues, but I intentionally make their issues my own just so I can say I’ve lived through it and overcome it. I don’t know how to be whole anymore. It’s like I’m slowly losing my soul. Like I’m just this inhumane being that writes about their life for the entertainment of other people. That I have to write to put food on my table. I have to live so I can write decently, but what kind of life am I supposed to live for it to be able to fulfill society's standards? Am I even entitled to have a life? Or have I chosen this life, do I have to continue to one up whatever is out there? To be better? How do I do better? How do I even compare to the stories told before me? How am I going to be remembered? Will I even be remembered? That’s the problem with being a writer. I get absorbed between the pages. I constantly compare myself to other authors. I write tangents that piss people off because I am antisocial and am more comfortable expressing myself hidden behind a screen. I want to be known, but also unknown so I can be left alone. I push people away from me because I cannot function normally. I turn my tragedies into a work of art. I go to school with it, I pay my bills with it. My misery is a joke. But I chose this. Because I’m damned if I do express myself, and I’m a coward if I don’t. Maybe that’s why I’m so messed up and feel psychotic. Maybe I’m just delusional and there is no real dilemma here. Maybe I’m the problem. Well…that’s fucked up, but that’s the real me. I am just trying to be honest with you like you have been with me. Hopefully I didn’t scare you off. You were just easy to write/rant to.

Hope to hear from you soon (I can’t promise I won’t write about it),

Zoë

I thought about sending this to you. But God Adam. I don’t want you to think I’m insane. Because I really do feel crazy and I don’t think you’re ready for me. I stare at the screen, as the light illuminates my dark bedroom. My tears have dried, hardening against my face. I hover my thumb over the button at the top of the screen before I press ‘delete’.

(Un)known;

**The following story contains topics of depression, and sexual assault PTSD**

Who do you say I am? A simple question, but yet has complicated answers. Ironically, it is also a bible verse: Matthew 16:15. However, I don’t need to reflect on my religion. I know what I believe in. What I don’t understand is trying to figure out where I belong inside the demanding society in which I associate myself with. Who do you say I am? I’m not sure I’ll ever know and will continue trying to figure it out for the rest of my life.

Bzzz-Bzzz. I glanced away from my laptop, to check to see who texted me. I looked at the notification illuminating my screen. Adam.

Here! Can you let me in pleeeeease? ^-^

I really need to just get him a key made so I can stop having to get out of bed each time to let him in. It’s too damn cold outside.

Yeah, I’ll be down in a sec

I pressed the little up arrow and reached down to grab the slippers from underneath my bed. I slid the slippers onto my feet and grabbed the key card off my desk and started making my way to the elevator. As I pushed the door open, a cold wind rushed past me causing me to shiver. I looked up and saw Adam leaning against the building’s wall.

“Are you going to let me in or just stand there and let us both freeze?” he smirked.

I glared and pursed my lips. “I don’t have to let you in.”

“No…but I’ll buy dinner if you do.”

My eyes got wide at the mention of food. I forgot to eat today.

“Ok, fine. What’re we gonna eat?” I asked.

“I’m ok with whatever, I don't really care. What do you want?”

“I’m ok with whatever you choose. I can find anything anywhere.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Alright. Um. There’s Chinese, Italian –”

“Chinese sounds good.”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I wore a slight smirk as I went to lead him back up to the apartment. He tried reaching for my hand, but I pretended not to notice. After getting back inside, I grabbed the take-out menu off the fridge to hand it to Adam.

“Are you calling, or am I?” His dimples were prominent as he smiled.

“You. General Tso’s with pork fried rice and an eggroll please?”

He shook his head and took his shoes off at the door. I watched as he walked through the kitchen and plopped himself on my couch before pulling out his phone to call the restaurant. I walked to the hallway towards my room. I picked up my laptop that I left on the bed, plugged it in and set it on my desk. When I got back into the living room, Adam made himself comfortable and spread himself across the couch.

“Food will be here in about thirty minutes.”

“And where am I supposed to sit?” I gestured to the couch.

He began to sit up a bit, but still had his legs stretched out.

“You sit on that end, I sit on this end and we can both lie down.”

I shook my head, walked over to the couch and climbed over his legs to sit on the inside of the couch, making sure I didn’t sit on his feet.

“So, Zo, what did you get into today?”

“Um. Not a whole lot. Got a little bit of writing done.”

“Oh? How’d that go?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I mean, it’s writing. It sometimes goes well, other times you want to throw your laptop across the room. It’s a balance really.”

“You mind letting me read it?”

“I mean, it isn’t done yet and I don’t really like showing anyone my pieces until it’s complete.”

“Alright. Noted.”

I tried to avoid eye contact after that. It’s true though, I don’t really like sharing my stories until I am a hundred percent happy with it. I then told him how I don’t usually go out, and I’m basically a hermit, who shuts herself off to lounge around in her pajamas if she doesn’t actually have to be anywhere. He then told me that the only reason he wasn’t joining me in my pjs was because he had to work earlier. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just some small talk until the food came.

“Is there anything you want to watch?” I asked handing him the controller.

“I’m sure I can find something. Is there anything you want to watch?”

I shook my head and just fidgeted with my hair. I wasn’t paying attention to what he picked, I mainly just tuned out the tv all together and ate my dinner in silence.

“Is everything ok?” He asked.

I nodded my head and started braiding my hair to the side.

“Are you sure? You’re really quiet over there.”

I haven’t even noticed I was being that antisocial.

“Yeah. I’m ok.”

His eyes looked at me with a deepening concern.

“Why don’t you really talk to me? We text and stuff, but I don’t think we had an actual conversation since we met.” His lips turned downwards as he asked.

I could tell he looked genuinely concerned. I just, I’m not sure what to say. I sat gathering my thoughts trying to think about where to begin.

“We can go back to watching tv if you want.”

I must’ve been silent for a while. I don’t want him getting frustrated with me.

“No, it’s um. It’s ok. I’m just thinking. Like…I know we like each other. And I really want to be able to talk openly with you, but I just…I don’t know how.”

“What do you mean?’ He looked at me like I was a puzzle and he was desperate to solve it.

“So. I uh..I am very fucked up. I am damaged from my past relationships.”

“I mean, we all have bad relationships.”

I sighed. “I don’t like talking about it to just anyone. But I trust you. But please don’t look at me with pity after. Please?”

He nodded his head in agreement.

“So my last relationship was…toxic.” I gulped. “He was a predator really. But I was too young and naïve to realize it. He was older, and he took advantage of me. He took everything from me. And I mean everything.”

I could feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes.

“For years I didn’t have any friends, I barely saw my family, he was my life. I didn’t pick where we went to eat, or what we wanted to watch, it was always me changing my life to fit his. He gaslighted me and made me feel guilty if I didn’t give him what he wanted…he took advantage of my age, and my inexperience. Uh, and he even took away my passion and motivation to find the will to live. I didn’t read or write. I stopped going to church. And now I just get by lost. Wandering around in endless circles. I have become indecisive, and I struggle to make decisions because I didn’t have them for so long. But, admitting my issues means that I will forever be known as that girl.”

There was no stopping it now, the tears burned against my cheeks as they trickled down. He sat up and got off the couch. I’ve done it now. I cried in front of him. Now he knows just how messed up I truly am. I’m going to watch him walk out that door and I’ll never hear from him again.

Instead, he walked over to my side of the couch and knelt on the ground.

“May I touch you?” He asked.

I was taken back at first, because no one has ever asked me for my permission first. I looked into his eyes and slowly nodded. He slowly reached out as I gulped. He cupped my face and put his forehead against mine and just held me there for a while.

“I will never pity you for what you went through. Instead I respect you and admire your strength for being so honest with me. And for simply living through what you did.” His voice was just as shaky as mine.

I let out a mild cry.

“You are an amazing woman. And that boy is not worthy of you. Your past does not define you. Only you can define yourself. And I sure as hell would be honored to witness what you make of yourself.”

I was speechless. I couldn’t think of anything to say, I don’t even think I could write right now. But it didn’t matter. We sat there in silence with our eyes shut just breathing each other in. We didn’t have to speak or worry about the issues that happened or are happening around us. Because in that moment, we were alive, and it didn’t matter who we were.

Shadowed

The sound of my footsteps echoed as I ran into a dark void, and the shadow man followed me, disappearing into the darkness. I couldn’t see anything but darkness. It’s like the shadow man is vanished into thin air, nowhere to be seen, but yet somehow, I still felt his presence everywhere. I’m running and I don’t know where my feet are carrying me. I continue to pant and wheeze, the burning sensation of the air going down my throat, struggling to get inside of my lungs, feeling like my chest is going to explode. I don’t know how much longer I can go on. My legs ache from running for what seems like hours. Somehow, the adrenaline kicks in and I continue to run.

EEEEEEEEK!

I heard the high-pitched shriek behind me. It sounded like someone yelled out in horror, but I didn’t bother turning around. I just have to keep running. I know it’s him playing tricks on me again, he’s done it before. He cannot manipulate me so easily now. I won’t allow him to. I just have to keep running. I can feel my body pounding, feeling as if there were electricity pumping through my veins.

My bare feet slap against what feels like black pavement during the summertime. A scorching hot, bumpy sensation that squeezes the soles of my feet causing blisters to begin forming. I bite my lip to muffle a scream from escaping my lips.

I have to keep running.

If I can just make it to the end. I’m not even sure if there is an ending to this. There has to be an end. There just has to. I look ahead and see a small glint of some kind of light. I start heading towards it and I can almost smell the salinity of some form of water. A small lake maybe? Why would there be a lake in the middle of this void? How is that even possible? There’s no sign of any life here. No trees. No cars. No buildings. No people. Nothing.

Just pitch-black abyss that never-ends. At least, that’s what I thought. I furrowed my eyebrows as I gazed at the light flickering in a pool of water. I can barely hear the waves crashing, even though I’m almost to the brink. Just as I’m about to run my feet across the edge of the lake, I stumble forwards. My body tensed, preparing to smack into the water’s floor head-first, but I was surely mistaken. It was like I dived into a pool intentionally, and my whole body was surrounded by water. I need to swim up for air. I started kicking my cramped legs, trying to break through the surface.

THUNK!

I hit the top of my head. I went to reach out and see what I hit my head on. It was a glass panel. I went to try and place my hands on either side of me and sure enough, it was all glass. I was stuck within a glass case. What am I going to do? I can’t go anywhere. I’m stuck. I’m going to drown. I banged my fists on the enclosure, hoping that I could do some kind of damage. I wanted to scream, but I clenched my mouth shut and pushed the air into my cheeks. I have to keep ahold of my breath. I tried maintaining all the air in until I began to feel light-headed. I couldn’t hold it any longer. I caved in and screamed, feeling the air bubbles pop against the impact of my face. and I continued to punch the box repeatedly. Please just crack. My knuckles are probably going to bruise because of the impact, but bruising was the least of my worries.

I was dying.

I couldn’t hold it my breath anymore, so I breathed in. The water filled nose and trickled down my throat, burning all the way down to my lungs. I was coughing up the water, but it left no relief because more water poured in. I felt myself slipping away, transforming into the darkness that surrounded me. I was tired of fighting.

I closed my eyes and just imagined myself being anywhere else.

I opened my eyes and saw that he was there. The shadowed man. His eyes glowed bright. He resembled a body of smoke. He stood there watching me as my eyes grew wide.

I’m glad that I’m drowning so he can’t get to me. He kept getting closer and closer. But even though I lost my ability to breathe, I felt like I didn’t need to anymore. It’s almost as if he was keeping me alive somehow. But how is that possible? I’m trapped, not even he can get to me. So, what was he doing to me? What kind of trance did he put me under that I don’t have to breathe? He was so close he could just reach out and touch the glass between us. I stared into the glowing orbs, that almost looked like little flames dancing around in his eyes. They were alive with rage with a spine-tingling growl, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Find her.”

His voice was hoarse. It was as if the smoke that surrounded him filled his lungs. Find who? Who do I need to find and why do I need to find her? I shook my head in confusion. I don’t understand what he wants. I saw him reach through the glass, barely even an impact. The shards of glass and water poured out going around him, not even grazing him in the slightest. The smoke that surrounded him was now consuming me. His eyes blinded mine, pulling me in deeper towards him. It’s as if we were becoming one. He reached out and grabbed a hold of my forearm, squeezing to the point I could feel it in my bones.

“Find her.” He screamed at me. I could still feel the impact of his breath hit my face. His grasp changed, and now his palm was scorching my skin’s surface. I screamed out in agony and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Esmeralda! Sweetie, it’s time for school!” My mom screamed from down the stairs.

School. I sat up and I looked down at my wrist. I noticed the pink blistered skin. Seven letters swelled across my arm, reminding me of what he wanted me to do. I just wish I knew who she was.

Phoenix Waters

The waves brushed against the shoreline, whispering to the sand, as the sun began to rise in the east. The boardwalk, for once, was empty. The only tourists were the seagulls beginning to squawk at each other. The sky was painted with deep embers of scarlet, burnt orange, and gold. It was as if the world wasn’t awake yet. There sat a little blue coffee bar along the edge of the dock. There were black awnings over the two front windows, a blinking open sign in the front right display and a windchime made of seashells hanging by the entrance in the middle. A young couple sat outside at one of the patio tables. The boy slowly sipped his coffee, while the girl fiddled with her cup and stared out into the distance.

“Don’t you think the sky looks like a phoenix’s wings? And it’s feathers create the texture of the clouds?” The girl asked, never looking away from the sky.

“No. Phoenix’s aren’t real.” The boy replied.

“Well yeah, I know, but you’ve seen paintings of ‘em haven’t you? They’re very beautiful creatures.”

“It’s also fictitious. The people that painted them lived with their heads in the clouds and believed in something that is non-existent, which is more tragic than beautiful.”

“I suppose. I think it’s going to storm.” She sighed and continued to stare at the sky.

“It might, later, we’re fine now. Are you going to look at me while we talk?” He asked with annoyance.

She moved her gaze to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. We just need to figure out what we’re going to do.”

“I know, you’re right. Do you think it’s what we should do?”

“Of course, I think we should go through with it. You and I aren’t ready.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right.”

She started popping her knuckles, trying to calm her nerves.

“I mean, it’s really up to you though. And I’ll support your decision regardless.”

She nodded her head in silence.

“Is that what you want? Because if that’s what you want then you have to decide sooner rather than later.” He asked.

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Well, whatever you decide on, I’ll be by your side.”

“Will you still love me?”

“Of course, I’ll still love you.”

“What if I dream of phoenix wings in the sky, and live with my head in the clouds sometimes? Would you love me even then? Would you believe in my madness and support my imagination and even go along with it?”

“Yes, I will still love you then. I just want you to make the best decision for us both. Because this affects the rest of our lives. I will go along with anything you want me to. But I want you to know that once the decision is made, that’s it. There’s no going back.”

“Mkay.”

“But I still mean it when I say, whatever you decide, the choice is entirely up to you.”

“Can we not talk about this anymore please?”

“Yeah, no problem. It’s just that I want you to be smart about all this.”

“Please stop talking.”

“But you need to think about this.”

“Please stop.”

“Ok, I’ll stop. Are you ok?

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

It started with just a drop of rain before the wind started to pick up, and the clouds turned to a shade of grey, causing the sun to vanish from the sky. The waves began crashing more violently and rapid.

“I’m fine.” She sighed.

Then the rain started to pour, soaking the ground around their table.

“I’m fine.”

20 Steps to Stop Yourself from Falling in Love

Step 1. Break up with your partner: they’re an asshole.

Step 2. Build up walls inside your heart and mind that can’t be torn down: If they can’t get through, then they can never see how fragile you actually are.

Step 3. Remind yourself about your past relationships: Remember how they used you and manipulated you. Remember how they trained your mind and body to do what they wanted without a fight. How they gaslighted you. They forced themselves on you and caused you to drink a venomous poison from their lips, intoxicating you. And as long as you keep reminding yourself that, you’ll be too damaged to fall for anyone again.

Step 4. Tell them how you only want to be friends: Friend-zoning them allows them to stay distant. They’re there to lend an ear only. To talk to when things get rough. The more friends you have, the less lonely you are; the easier it is to not fall for any of them because they’re all off limits.

Step 5. Flirt with multiple people and let them know you were flirting with other people: Talking to multiple people gives you the advantage of never being monogamous. There’s no true feeling behind it, it is purely an attraction that never has to go any further than that. It’s only a state of pure ecstasy. A hormone overdrive. Nothing more.

Step 6. Keep telling yourself that you don’t want to be with anyone, even when you realize how lonely you truly are.

Step 7. Repeat steps 2-6 for a while.

Step 8. Bump into a stranger: Shake their hands, lock eyes with them, and get their whole life story in a little unknown store that you work in. Bond over the ambience and talk over a show that’s airing. Bond with them for about 20 minutes. Also, up-sale items within the store (you’re at work, you have to be professional).

Step 9. Watch them walk out the door, and never see them again.

Step 10. Check your phone: see a new friend request from the stranger. Chat with them via messenger for a few hours reminding yourself of when you were a teenager; eager, driven, and naïve. Then get their number, and talk to them even more, as if you’ve known them their whole life.

Step 11. Agree to a date: After talking for a few days, finally give in and decide to ‘hang out’ with them. What could go wrong? It’s just a casual date. No big deal.

Step 12. Hook up on the first date: Not something you usually condone, but you’re lonely and it just kind of happened unplanned.

Step 13. Continue to talk to the stranger and admit that they feel familiar to you: Keep agreeing to hang out with them (and hooking up with them). It’s fun, reckless, and casual. They make every moment something new to experience.

Step 14. Slowly stop talking to other people.

Step 15. Agree to be in a relationship without any labels: slowly transition to wanting to spend every waking minute with them. In between classes, or after work shifts, any moment you’re available. You simply want to be in their presence.

Step 16. Realize that you have communication issues: Notice that you both aren’t telling each other everything, and it becomes maddening. Argue about it, and fight for your own stubbornness. Or, keep your mouth shut and say nothing adding on to the original dilemma.

Step 17. Begin to push them in the most unconventional ways: Begin talking to a fling of the past and throw yourself into their arms. Then into their bed because of the anger built up, and the physical need for attention. Repeat steps 2-5.

Step 18. Realize you’ve made a mistake and wait for forgiveness: Wait for their grief and sadness to pass from your actions. Allow them to dwell in the pain and let them forgive you. Also, forgive yourself for burying yourself in your own mentality.

Step 19. Start living your life in a better mindset: Allow that stranger to inspire you, them as a whole, and also the situation you both have submerged yourself in. Allow yourself to write, and read, and embrace the life you’ve been given. Break the cycle of the self-demolition and start to enjoy life and embrace the little things.

Step 20. Admit your defeat: After spending time with a person for three years, admit that even though you’ve broken the steps and you’ve fallen in love.It might not have been expected, but it’s real and genuine. You found it in loving a stranger, through them, you’ve learned to love yourself.

Remind Me

The birds begin chirping outside my window, ensuring that the sun is about to rise at any moment. Everyone is going to be waking up soon, and I just lie there restless. Thoughts of us flooded my mind as soon as my head hit the pillow. Tossing and turning, thinking of your arms wrapping against the small of my back, pulling me closer to you. Our foreheads pressed against each other as I gazed into your eyes of emerald, losing myself in your gaze. We etched our noses together and your lips brushed my own as you whispered, “till death do us part.” I can still feel the passion and desire burned into my skin as your hands roamed over my body, claiming me as your own, as if we were one. So many nights have lived that way over the course of time we’ve been together, and I was a testament to them all. One by one, they were flooding through my brain, and a tear rolled down my cheek at the beauty of it all. I watched as the sun began to creep into my room, and a single ray gently spread across my arm. I reached out across the bed, and smoothed over the emptiness on the sheets beside me.

Today’s the day.

I can feel the butterflies flutter inside my stomach, twisting and turning around the knot I’ve built up inside. I try toand push it to the side because I know that they’re just nerves building up in the pit of my stomach. I won’t let it consume me. Not today. I shimmy the weighted blanket off my legs and slide it down towards my feet. Before placing my bare feet on the cool wooden floor, I glance up at my dress dangling from the closet door. I watch it as if it were going to start swaying at any moment. It doesn’t but I still continue to stare at it for a while.

I grab the satin robe that was strewn on the chair beside my bed, bunching it up in my fist before fiddling with it, trying to find the sleeves. I wrapped the robe across my body, tightening the belt around my waist. I look in the mirror from the vanity and inspect the dark circles that formed underneath my eyes from the lack of sleep. I’ll just cover it up later. I guess that’s why concealer was invented in the first place, to hide our insecurities, and the sleepless nights. Sometimes to even hide the markings of the ones you love. I run my fingers across my neck, and imagine how your lips traced along my jaw, and then down to my collarbone, then my breast, and the many times I had to conceal those marks you left behind. The marks that made me yours and yours alone.

I shook the image out of my head and dragged my feet towards the bathroom. Hopefully the steam from a shower will ease the tension that’s built up and spread to my back. I turn on the faucet, letting the water droplets fall onto my palm, adjusting the temperature to my liking. I usually prefer a warmer shower, but today, I couldn’t get it any hotter. I climb into the shower, stretching my arms underneath the faucet and standing on my tip toes, allowing my bones to pop, releasing that pressure from being so stiff. After I bathe, I stand there in silence, encased by a cloud of steam, blanketing around my head and filling my nostrils. I place my palms and forehead against the invigorating tile and allow the heat to pour over the bareness of my back, creating a contrast between the two. The water massages into my skin, but I know that it’s also reddening it in the process.

Today’s the day, I remind myself.

I inhale the last little bit of mist before turning the faucet off and stepping out, creating a pool on the mat below my feet. I fidget with the robe once more and scrunch my damp hair with a towel. I walk over to the bathroom mirror and wipe away the condensation. I look at the person staring back at me. Her hazel eyes were glossed over, and her hair was in stringy clumps from being so damp. A soft grey circle remained underneath her eyes, slightly faded from before, and her lips swollen from the night prior. I look unfazed by the day that’s ahead of me, but I know it’s a lie. Those damn butterflies are still flapping around the pit of my stomach.

Just breathe. I tell myself. I close my eyes and let my chest rise and fall. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Once my nerves are somewhat settled, I hear the rushing around on the floor below me. Everyone is getting ready for today. I can hear the girls shuffling around, looking for their other heel, frantically asking how they should wear their hair, and if anyone has skipped breakfast. I didn’t need to be apart of that. I’m stressed enough on my own as is. They’ll see me when they see me.

I sit in the chair in front of the vanity and begin to comb through my hair, detangling each knot with slow brush strokes. Once untangled, I push my hair back with a headband, allowing it to air dry so I can put on an unrecognizable face. It was only him who ever got the chance to see what’s hidden beneath the mask I paint. Beginning with a primer, to smooth out my face, evening out all of my imperfections. Onto foundation, blending it in to match my tone, because without it everything would just come undone. Then the eyes, the window to the soul. I pack on a shimmery eyeshadow, the glamorous part of it all, so it takes everyone’s glance away from actually seeing into me, keeping my soul tucked away by blinds. Top the eyes off with a solid thin black wing, because those are the only kind of wings I’ll get to have. Also, a thick coat of waterproof mascara, so even when I go to blink away the tears, it won’t ruin my hard work. Lastly, a nude lip, because he always makes me feel bare in front of him.

I remove the headband from my head, allowing my raven hair to fall on to my shoulders. I put a few drops of a heat protectant oil on my palm, rubbing it together on my hands and began to run my fingers throughout my hair. The aroma of Moroccan oil and sandalwood filled my lungs. I remember that time you used it as well, not because you needed it, but because you wanted my scent on you the rest of the day. I close my eyes and imagine that I’m running my fingers through your hair rather than my own. Then I open my eyes and start to section off my hair. One. Two. Three. A top, middle and bottom; almost like a beginning, middle and end. Everything has some kind of symbolism when it comes to you. When it comes to me. Us. I shake my head, trying to focus on the strands I let loose. If I can just focus on the hot iron. Wrap a small section around it, hold, drop, grab another, and repeat. Over and over until my arms slowly become numb. I push through the ache and finish my head. Then switch to twisting and pinning pieces together intricately, until only a few pieces fell framing my face. I gaze at my reflection, and I look unrecognizable. As I should.

I grab the heels that were placed beside the table, and slip them onto my feet, fumbling with the straps. Once they’re secured in place I walk over to the closet and run my hand along the dress that’s been staring back at me all morning. The smooth silk puts my brain somewhat to ease. I pinch one of the thin straps, pulling it off the hanger, allowing the dress to fall to the floor. Stripping the robe off a final time, I coax myself into slipping the dress on. One leg, then the other, and pull it up over my shoulders. I can feel the fabric against every inch of my body, and although it’s loose, and breezy, I feel like I’m suffocating. I just want to tear it off and rip it to shreds. But I can’t. I snap back to my reality once there’s a knock on my door. “Are you ready my dear? It’s almost time.” My mom calls. I nod, even though she can’t see behind the door. I grab the knob and twist, swallowing hard. I look at my mom, who stares at me wide-eyed. “You look beautiful sweetheart.” She assures me, grabbing my hand and giving it a light squeeze.

I’m still unable to speak. I just focus on breathing. I give her a thankful smile, and start heading towards the venue, following behind her. Down the grand staircase, and out the tall double doors. I don’t acknowledge the surroundings on the way down. I don’t even look up until I’m outside. The vibrato from the violin echoed in my ears, and that’s when I see you.

You stood underneath a wooden archway, with wildflowers, baby’s breath, and ivy cascading down on either side, overflowing at the top. The aisle had white petals scattered across the ground. Black lanterns with tea light candles lit with each column of white chairs. It was beautiful, and just what I wanted, but the only thing that held my gaze was you. You, towering over everyone, at the end of the walkway. Black trousers, white button up, and your blonde hair styled as always. I could look at you, admiring you from afar forever. Your eyes meet mine, and I know I have your full attention. You sweep your eyes over my body, before looking back at my eyes. I start walking slowly, never losing your attention. You don’t smile, just look as if you’re about to cry. I let a tear streak down my face as I brokebreak away from your gaze, turning my head, and went togo to find my seat in the crowd.

Today’s the day, I remind myself. Today’s the day I lose the man I love.

This isn’t our wedding. It’s yours. How did we get here? I used to know you so well. Like the back of my hand, or a backroad, or my favorite song blaring on repeat. I gave you my all, and you could never quite open up to me. I followed my dreams, and wanted you to follow me, but you didn’t. Instead you moved on enough to propose to someone else after three months and I gave you three years.

“It should’ve been me!” I yelled at you last night at the rehearsal dinner. My words are fullwords full of fear and you put your hands on my shoulders, speechless. You were always speechless. Your eyes stared past all of my walls I tried building up, and I crumbled at your feet. Leaning into your grasp and allowed a sob to escape. You stroked your thumb across my cheek, wiping away my tears, before tilting my chin up at you. “I’ve always only thought of what’s best for you.” You say as your nose nuzzled against mine. I felt your warm breath fall across my lips.

“What’s best for me?!” I yelled as I pushed you away from me. “You have no idea what’s best for me. You didn’t even give me a choice! You chose her! When we could’ve been happy together!” My throat was hoarse from screaming at you, and yet you still came and put your hands on me.

“Don’t touch me.” I plead, not even believing my own words. I was defeated. You won. But you still tipped my head towards your own and smashed your mouth against mine with hunger, just like you always did. I didn’t put up a fight, I just melted in your embrace. We fed off each other’s passion, starving for each other. Our hands roamed over each other, as if we were finding our way home within one another. Then you pulled away. Now, you’re standing at the altar.

I look back up, after replaying the events of last night a final time in my head. You’re still staring at me, and I clench my jaw. You chose this. I throw my thoughts in your direction, as if you can read my mind. I’m here to remind you of what you could’ve had. What you should’ve chosen. Do you think about me when her name comes across your lips? When you fuck her? Do you wish it was me instead? Do you like knowing what you gave up? What you chose? Because it wasn’t mutual. But now it’s too late.

I smooth my black dress, because this may be your wedding, but it’s my funeral. You killed off any chance we ever had, and now I have changed. So, go ahead and think of me. Think about how I was full of wonder and dreams, and almost appeared juvenile compared to her. She will never be me, and you have to live with that. I take one last look at you, and your eyes are full of sorrow.

The music changes, and the piano echoes in my ears. I know your future is about to walk down the aisle and I know it is haunting you of our past. The audience stands up, and I can feel your gaze burning at me instead of her. So, I shut those stupid butterflies up, clip their wings, and kill off whatever connection we had. Because it’s not you who breaks away your gaze, it’s me. It’s my turn to turn my back on us, like you had once before. Our chapter has finally closed, and this is the reminder you will never have me again.