"Welcome to poetic therapy, where you can let out all your pain and suffering as we'll all join our hands, and get through our hardships together." the host said, her eyes showing no emotion, her tone indicating she had no desire to be here.
The light bearing down from the ceilings caused Sol to sweat, collar tight. she regretted doing this already.
she swallowed her saliva, taking deep breaths.
"Who would like to go first? our topic was," the host looked down at the paper in her hands, "our departed lover." she said, eyes scanning the crowd hungrily.
she noticed Sol shaking.
"How about you? You seem excited today." the blonde woman piped, locking eyes with Sol. "Come on now, don't be shy."
"I-I'm not sure if-"
The lady's bloodshot gaze bore through her.
Sol balled her fist and picked up the paper from her lap. taking a deep breath, she began to read.
"Our love is my guilty pleasure." she said shakily.
"You hurted me, but I never cared."
"I'm vulnerable. our bond, it's not there. I know I lost you a long time ago, but I can't let you go. if I let you go, I let myself go."
Sol desperately looks around for encouraging glances. All she sees are lowered gazes.
Whatever.
She continues timidly. "You keep me sane. Without you, I have no purpose."
"Without you, I'm a shadow of what I could've been. there's not a thing I wouldn't do to be able to reach my full potential without thinking of you and failing."
"I strive to be able to last a day without needing to wipe my eyes, much less the rest of this miserable life. I stopped doing my make-up because I ruin it. I stopped doing my make-up because I have nobody to look good for. I feel so, so ugly."
The paper dampened from the sweat emit from Sol's fingers.
"I just wish, I just genuinely wish, I'd maybe shut up that day. that I'd been a little kinder to you. or that I'd brought back a pastry for you when I came home from work. Or that, in sacrifice of you dying, the man I met on that plane lived and I left you." She bitterly said, admitting her brief moment of infidelity. But it was nothing compared to what he'd done, right?
"I fucking..." the girl's vision blurred with tears, as she stared at the incomplete last line of her literature. she didn't know if she fucking hated, or fucking loved him.
