𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐀 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨

𝟐𝟎

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐈𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀

It's funny how we all little imperfect mortal creature born to always dream of being perfect.

Stainless.

Spotless.

Flawless.

Untarnished.

We spend a whole lifetime trying to solve the math of how to be perfect.

The equation to which no matter what complicated or uncomplicated theory you apply, is always gonna fake it till you make it to your graves.

Fake.

Such a beautiful thing it is.

Some call it white lies.

Some call it self defence.

I call it burden.

A beautifully macabre burden.

Sometimes it takes up all the spcae in my chest until I gasp in the bath tub drowning.

The bath tub where it all started.

I stare at the family photo laying on the floor shattered into pieces, tainted by the red dripping from my hand.

Even the eyes in the walls know how perfectly fake my life is.

Sighing out the heaviness in my throat, I pick the glass pieces once again this time making sure to not cut myself.

I was amidst fixing my closet when I heard the loud shattering of glass tumbling on the floor making a sharp tune that stung deep in my bones.

For a fact I know someone had to unhook the photo frame and flung it at the floor with maddening rage to make such an ear-splintering noise.

Something I've always wanted to do eversince we took that photo and turned it into perfect little photo frame of our perfect little family.

And I also know it was one of the many hundreds vigilante eyes spying on each of my movements has turned my wish into fruition.

I throw the glasses in the bin, staring at our perfect family picture.

It's fake.

From the smile on my face to his face.

It's all fake.

Except may be Rosie's.

At some point may be there was something real but it had all evaporated into drought very quickly.

Leaving just the deserted crusty cracked soil we tried to build it all up on.

I hear my phone ring on the table and there he is calling me after two whole days without bothering check if his wife and his daughter had a safe move-in.

Or whether we had a safe flight in general?

I debate answering the call.

I don't want any of his nosey secretaries checking on me.

I sit slumped against the bed watching the call end as I don't make any move to pick it up.

He will call back.

The phone lights up once again as it rings.

Gotta make sure on his diamond once in a while nevertheless.

Placing the bloodied photo frame on the floor I strech my good hand sliding my finger across the screen..

Neither of us speaks.