literature

The Story of a Girl

Deviation Actions

Published: May 14, 2010

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Literature Text

^{I was 9 and you were 11 when you first told me that Santa wasn't real. But you believe in empty promises and fairies and happy endings, so why should I believe you?

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I was 13 and you were 15 when we shared our first kiss under some mistletoe. (I still believed in Santa by the way.) It was everything I had ever dreamed of. You shrugged it off like it was just another of the thousands of kisses with dozens of boys you had shared before.

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I was 16 and you were 18 and you were leaving me to go to college. The night before you left, we made love for the first time. I was shy and you seemed to know what you were doing. You traced a line from my chest to my stomach with your lips and pressed your fingers against my jutting ribs. (I thought if maybe I was skinnier, you would finally want me. Maybe it had worked?) Moans and passionate whispers stained my sheets and sometimes when I fall asleep at night, I can still hear your shallowed voice.

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I was 17 and you were 19 and we were supposed to go my senior prom together. But, you never wrote or called anymore, and I had found some other girl to fill your void. Her name was Sarah and she was my age and understood me and I understood her. She liked my jutting ribs and broken smile, even though they were meant for you, not her. We didn't win prom king and queen or cutest couple or best dancers (like me and you would have), but none of that mattered to me anymore. Sarah and I made love for the first time that night in the backseat of my car overlooking the city. (I wasn't planning on it but it happened anyways. Not like you care.) She was a little hesitant and didn't trace my outline, but we were happy.

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I was 18 and you were 20 and it was summer. Sarah and I had ended our relationship because I felt empty and she no longer liked my jutting ribs or broken smile. You came home with a broken heart and a pained smile. We saw each other several times but you still never acknowledged me. Sometimes I would call you late at night and then hang up before you could answer. (I only wanted to hear your voice again. I was starting to forget what it even sounded like) It was the end of summer and I was having my going away party. My mother sent you an invitation by mistake and I was beginning to hope you wouldn't show up. But you did. And you left me a present on the table and left before even saying hello or goodbye.

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I opened your present after everyone else had left so I would be alone with my tears. Inside I found a corsage, the piece of mistletoe from years ago, a picture of us with Santa when we were little, and a piece of paper with a riddle on it telling me where to meet you. Meet me where the moon tells no lies and the city shines bright. Where your infidelity is greater than mine and the stars don't hide.

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So I met her on the spot overlooking the city where I had been just a year ago. My backseat was still dirtied with my transgressions and my heart was splashing against my chest like the high tide. She climbed into the passenger seat with her shoulder-length blonde hair and emerald eyes, not once breaking eye contact. Then she spoke to me for the first time in years and all of the feelings I had harbored for her my whole life smashed into my chest, leaving me breathless and gasping for air. She told me that she was hurting and some stupid boy had played with the strings of her heart like a puppeteer. She had placed her heart in his custody and he had dropped all charges against her, throwing her back out into the world all alone.

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She told me she was sorry she broke off communication and sorry she had missed out on prom with me and sorry she had never been there for me. She said she couldn't bear to keep in touch when she knew I was going to realize she wasn't good enough for me. (When in fact, I was the one who had never been good enough for her) She poked my jutting ribs and pressed her lips against mine. She wanted me and I wanted her again, but she was better than my backseat, better than Sarah, better than I had ever thought.

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I don't want to have to wait for you anymore. I'm tired of chasing after false happiness.

You don't need to spend any more time waiting on me. I'm yours. Run away with me. I can be your biggest mistake and only regret.

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I'm 20 and you're now 22 and my heart lies in a little box in your bedside nightstand. It's carefully wrapped and slowly stitching itself back together, using your damaged heartstrings as bindings. They say time heals all wounds, but you're the best medicine a doctor could ever prescribe. Last night, you glided your fingers along my outline, and brushed your lips against my skin from chest to stomach. Our hips moved in rhythm and my sheets were stained with secrets of two lovers and promises we would never be apart again. Our moans faded off into the night and sleep embraced us. We are two broken people, but being broken has never made me feel so whole.}

note: the two lines of dialogue, i am the bold, and she is the italics.

well here it is. take it or leave it. i'm not really sure where this came from to be honest. and i added in elements that i usually dont so we shall see.

please please please comment and critique. i want to get better!