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Rated: E · Sample · Emotional · #1084475
When something so hurtful has to happen to make you realise something so valuable.
I stand and watch as he caresses her face, and gaze with lust into her eyes, bumping and grinding,
against each other’s skin, it’s becoming really heated and passionate in this small circle. She slides up and down his masculine body, then glances over at me, with a cheeky grin, I cant help but laugh at their childish and immature antics, it is all happening so fast in here I wonder should I just walk away. I try, but to my astonishment I can stand here and watch, and not a single part of me aches. I’m dazzled at my actions or re-action should I say.
I am frozen, my feet stay fixed to the floor below, my body wont budge, I cannot move and its not because of his behaviour, its more so on how I am feeling. If I did want to walk away I wasn’t allowed, when your body keeps you somewhere, it keeps you there for a reason, and my reason was that today was going to be the last day, he will ever hurt me.
I’m stood still on this crowded dance floor, the blood is drained from my body, and I feel alone in this large congested venue. I want to scream and shout and tell the world that I am not hurting anymore. My blood flow quickly reinstates itself to normality and I continue what I was doing, before he stumbled on the dance floor next to me.
Rhonda appears confused and assures me, that his new “friend” is not so attractive. It was her way of trying to make me feel better, but I didn’t need her reassurance. I knew myself from just standing watching her that no matter how ugly she appeared on the outside, she was an even uglier person on the inside. Not only had she made a complete fool of herself in front of me, but she also illustrated the type of individual she is. A selfish, self-centred immature person, she’s his perfect match.

Who was this that man I loved? And where in the hell has he disappeared?
I lay in bed beside an alien each night; I woke up with a visitor in my bed each morning. I made love to a man who doesn’t exist.
I loved a stranger; I lived with a stranger. I loved the man he pretended to be, I could never love the man he really is.


© Copyright 2006 Noelle Grant (bengagal at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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