Taking another brief study break from bio to post this, hehe. It’s a selection from one of the things I wrote in my theater class on the personal narrative/memoir. Prompt was to write about my feelings. Now. Not yesterday, not last week, not one hour ago. Now.
Uhh, unfortunately my professor caught me during that painful mutual break-up the boyfriend and I attempted for our own good but failed miserably. So I present to you (under a cut because I’m not letting this embarrassing sucky metaphoric teenage angsty blech float free in the open) whatever the heck I wrote.
I am a butterfly, imprisoned within the hot cave of fingers that plucked me from my free world. I cannot move as I wish; I can only struggle fruitlessly and fail to flee from this snare. I just want to roam, to carelessly stretch out my wings like I had finally been able to do lately. I got to taste the sweet nectar of the contentment I had been coveting for so long… but it was too good to last.
Of course, I have suffered before: caught under stress, suffocated by a stack of papers, damaged in a fight with a friend, lost in a new place. But never by a boy.
Never so torn between wanting to see him every day, every minute, every second, to hold him so closely that his natural scent saturates into my pores like the most intoxicating perfume—and wanting to shove him out of my life with as much force as these tired arms can muster. Wanting to forget what it was like to love when I didn’t believe that teenagers truly had the capacity to love, that it could ever venture beyond a lustful infatuation.
Is it possible to be hurt and happy at once? That’s what it’s like being with him: having one wing pinned down while the other flutters in vain. Happy because he’s my first everything, with no regrets, but hurt because I know this is an impossible love. We were only meant to be a short term thing. Nothing too serious. We are far too different, too odd, too unexpected to be anything more than that. With his fingertips he presses my velvet wings to the pavement, leaving me open to read me easily, completely.
I don’t like it, loving someone in a non-platonic way. No, that’s a lie. Sometimes I do like it. Sometimes it feels like a light breeze is carrying me through the days and I can’t even imagine living without it. But other times… other times it just hurts so badly, as if someone has a clamp around my heart and tightens it just for kicks because love is a sadistic bastard. Today the clamp is tight, and it’s his fingers crushing my wings.
Please let me go. I want to fly again.
Fly with me.
Aw yeah, how was that for groan-inducing teenage emo? I have mad skillz, huh?
But Manny and I are all good now, journal. :D It’s just almost amusing (um, in retrospect of course) to see how dramatically he can change my mood. Ugh, emotions are yucky.
Now back to bio.
Until next time,
~ Mimi D: