"A thanks to all my tears
Who were always there in my darkest times when I was alone."
This book is not about my pathetic pitied self. Perhaps that's all they'll ever see me as, perhaps they'll always assume that I was the victim. Perhaps this will...
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I wasn't sure how fast my hands were moving. I wasn't sure how my fingers were flowing so fast, so fluidly. I wasn't sure how I was able to burry some of the memories.
Flashbacks.
I was having flashbacks.
I hated flashbacks.
It was all a blur. Frozen river, the event title 'Christmas Ball' in bold on the invitation card, the dark blue background, the tuxes, my white dress. I was having flashbacks of all of it.
My breathing was fast, and every time I blinked, I saw his face. His face. Not Reece's. The third guy I had crushed on.
I hated his face.
But I loved it at the same time. Sometimes I found myself thinking about him, and I hated myself for it. I once used to be infatuated with him.
One Year Ago...
I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like an angel, and that was what I was aiming for. I had my hair open, and I was in a beautiful white dress.
I loved the dress, I loved myself.
I had done very light make-up. My face glowed due to the foundation and the highlighter I had applied. I had given equal emphasis to my lips and eyes, making them both stand out. I couldn't tell which looked more beautiful.
I loved my looks, I was proud of them.
I checked my phone for the hundredth time for his message, his call, but saw nothing. At this rate, I knew we would be late.
I slipped into my heels, and made my way down the stairs with my purse and phone in my hands. The house was empty, my parents had gone to Vegas so I was alone in the house. I took some selfies, waiting desperately for his call.
I sat silently, tapping my fingers impatiently against the wooden table, feeling the excitement bubbling inside me.
I still remember that feeling, even though it disgusts me now. I despise that feeling. I remember how desperate I was, how needy I was, how childish I was.
The revulsion coursed through my body till this day every time I thought of those days. What I had amounted to. It detested me.
Last December was colder than most
Snowflakes garneted the roads.
They said it was the month of heart break
I disagreed, believed heart could never break
The words were pouring out of me, but I didn't want to accept them as mine. The repugnance I felt towards them was greater than the pride I felt in writing them. I was sick and tired. My hands were numb, I was sobbing, but no tears were coming out. It was as if they were blocked.
It was as if my emotions were forced inside me to forever stay that way. I couldn't break the barrier that had developed. I was always good at controlling my tears, but there were times when I just wanted them to come out.
