Maybe she'd told herself that he understood her like no one else did, but did he really? He must have. Or was her mind just deceiving her? Did she just let him believe that he understood her, did she even understand Zaire?
When she felt more alone than ever like now, she constantly thought this type of thoughts.
These feelings, these thoughts were so familiar to her. This feeling of powerlessness, being insignificant, of being worthless.
"Bad things always happen to me." Zaire muttered to herself.
She thought back to the times when she had less of an understanding of who she was, why she was here. Why she was forever hurting and hating. Despairing and being ever so desperate. Feeling like she had no real reason to live, not even feeling alive, merely existing in this world.
But then, Cory came along and changed all that, the day he f*cked up her whole world.
His screwed up face that always made him look puzzled. He'd do it when he was embarrassed, Zaire always found it cute. It never failed to make her giggle.
The only one who truly saw right through her when he had no reason to.
Her fingers traced over her phone and she quickly dialed Amaru's number before she lost her cool. Only to hear T-mobile that she was unavailable at the moment. Even if she wanted to lie, she couldn't deny how her heart sank.
Just another brown skinned girl in this concrete jungle...look at me and see yourself. Apparently, before I open my mouth to speak, some just have to look at me and they already know what I'm about, who I am, what I'm like when in fact sometimes I'm not even sure who I am. Sometimes I barely recognise myself as anyone but someone in desperate need of definition. Was I supposed to find myself or create who I was?
Even my parents hardly knew me, my mum was constantly telling me to wear earrings and trying to shove me in skirts, nagging me about taking a handbag wherever I went, when I knew that wasn't who I was. I didn't feel comfortable in leggings, and dolly shoes. I would have rather carried no bag than a handbag, I love trainers, I just do. And I'd pack my hair in the same way almost everyday because that's how I felt comfortable. Did weave a few times and I hated it, I just know when something feels right and when something is me, and all those things weren't me. And yet even when I lacked all this sexual appeal that most girls like me had, my dad had it in his head that I was this girl who enticed all the local boys, that I was loose because I seemed to have more male friends than females. It was too frustrating for me to explain myself. Why should I? I could shout and scream and swear at the top of my lungs and they still wouldn't hear me. I'd always fight back the angry tears and the urge to kill them. But...there's only so much a girl can take. There's only so much rejection, misunderstanding and judgment I could take from them.
I could write a beautiful soliloquy on the complexes of the human heart...even the human mind. Its beauty, its darkness...how every individual mind and heart is under lock and key by its owner and no matter how much one tries to convey what lies within that heart, that mind, that soul to another, no one will fully understand or comprehend those feelings inside. Not completely. Not ever.
Maybe sitting in the darkness the way Cory constantly did would offer Zaire some enlightenment of what he felt. Of what he constantly goes through. Maybe she would see things more his way.
She wished so badly he'd just talked to her, she knew all too well that he hurt, just like she did and every other living soul. He acted like feeling emotion was a curse, like feeling pain was forbidden. Maybe Zaire was a hypocrite because sometimes she behaved in the same way.
