"Are you sure?" I ask. He sinks into a chair, his face hard, cold, and flawless like a diamond.
Silence descends.
I'm shaking my bones are quaking like the spiney tree branches outside my window he doesn't want me I know it he doesn't want me. I'm running, racing through a labyrinth of memories looking for an escape clawing at the walls. The first time I saw him, ridiculously rolling by our door in a swivel chair with those luscious golden curls. "What a clown" I thought. "What a boy." And here that boy sits with the power of a man, ten men, a congress of giants. I'm hurting I think my muscles may be wilting inside me and I think I'm crying. I must hold it in and swallow it and try to seem serene like he looks. He sits frigidly emotionless as marble. Even sitting there flipping my heart in his fingers like it's a tarnished penny he is still beautiful. I should have seen it coming should have analyzed the signs. When he told me he sympathized with the Great Gatsby who liked the idea of a girl better than the reality. When winter's first snowflakes tumbled from the sky and he called my roommate instead of me. When he bolted out of the room while watching Inherit the Wind with me last night. Maybe he'll take it back erase all of this maybe we'll wipe away whatever he hates in me and it will be okay it will all be okay. No it won't. It will not be okay. I'm hurting. He will always hurt me. All those moments those subtle insults and poisonous rejections. Hot fury broiling in my chest. I know I'm letting him hurt me. He relishes power like a flea thrives on blood. I have to stop giving it to him. I have to open my mouth right now and tell him to get the fuck out of my room or I will throw him out by his deceptive blond tendrils.
My lips part. They hover open for a moment, then clasp shut again.
"I'm sure" he states blankly. "It's over." He wrenches the door open, slides out, and shuts it.
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Despite you being in love with this guy, your intent was to have us, the audience, hate him. Mission accomplished. This is a very powerful moment you've chosen, and one very personal to you. Thank you so much for having the strength to share it. The best part about this was the stream of consciousness sentences that run on. In the past and other works, I've found that annoying, but you did it in a way that was readable and lifelike. I'm extremely impressed; power to you.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Jessie. You have obvious control over your ideas and present them in a mature, articulate fashion. One minute is hardly time enough for most narratives, but your shutter-flashes of past memories, your creative imagery ("a congress of giants" -- "flipping my heart in his fingers like it's a tarnished penny" -- "He relishes power like a flea thrives on blood."), and your compelling stream-of-consciousness delivery all make for a marvelous read. I'll be stopping by here again, I assure you.
ReplyDeleteMolly, your writing amazes me. Everything you write is so powerful. The verbs you use are strong and have an impact (like 'bones are quaking' or 'hot fury broiling in my chest'). And the images and descriptions you create are so beautiful, despite the obvious pain you are describing. I loved the blog!
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