[cat·fish] verb /ˈkatˌfiSH/ *informal*
• lure (someone) into a relationship by means of a fictional persona.
• a catfish is someone who pretends to be someone they're not using social media sites to create false identities, particularly to pursue d...
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Sometimes I feel the remnants of heartbreak linger about me, and I don't know why. It sticks to my own skin like a second layer of skin. It was tiring to keep pretending that everything was fine and that everything is okay because it was not. I don't know if I'll ever truly be okay again.
It's one of those things that I gradually get used to, like a stray fly on a summer day or the pain that comes with wearing killer high heels. There's a heaviness in my soul that weighs down the corners of my lips; empty and distantly chaotic. And it's times like this where I have no fucking clue how to place my emotions into words, I don't know how to weave them into a story, and I'm falling apart. It's a slow process: starts with the mind, flows through my body, and ends with a frenzied breakdown.
And I know that this is the exact reason why a million-and-one problems stem from minuscule insecurities that bury themselves in the bottom of my rib cage, stinging like hand sanitizer on a paper cut. But I can't process anything right now, during this exact moment, as I stand in front of three hockey players that somehow know exactly who I am but also just claimed they have no clue who I am at all.
I hurt. It hurt so much that the air I exhale doesn't even want to trace its way back to me. I close my eyes just a second and listen to Nev and his many conspiracy theories as to what was going on at this very moment.
"Hold on, I'm so lost." Kamie shakes her head, putting her camera down by her side. "You all just told him you don't know AJ."
"Who is AJ?" Andrei looks at her, genuine confusion laced in his tone. "That is Alyssa."
"I'm AJ." I finally speak up for myself as the bleak hopelessness I felt finally subsides, just a little.
"You're name is Alyssa, you told me your name was Alyssa."
"Alyssa Johnson, AJ. A as in Alyssa, J as in Johnson." Everyone murmurs some vague response as they understand where the confusion was originating, and I blink once slowly. God, I think to myself, I can't fucking believe nobody really understands that.
I stumble back a bit as Andrei envelopes me in an affectionate hug, his body smelling faintly of sweat and his eyes sparkling. "I wasn't sure if that was you walking down here, it didn't feel real." He smiles down at me and my body relaxes a little bit. "I can't believe you're here."
"Yeah, me either," I say dejectedly, but it comes out more of a whisper. I couldn't stand the fact that he acted like he wanted me here right now that the cameras were rolling but the text messages told another story.
"Do you two know anything about this?" Kamie points between the two teammates standing on either side of Andrei as I try to place who they are.
Jesperi Kotkaniemi. Andrei always just refers to his as "KK" though, ironic because he can't even remember my initials. He was Finnish, he played center, he was drafted the safe year Andrei was, and he and Jarvis are practically conjoined at the hip as inseparable as the pair were. I don't know too much about him, but I did know that Andrei spent plenty enough time with him to call him a friend.
