𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 ― rafe cameron

έξι ; 6

song of the chapter:
THINGS TO DO ; alex g

Margarita sat in her room, surrounded by the muted hues of olive green and the soft oranges and pinks reminiscent of a sunset. The colors were meant to be comforting, evoking the warmth and tranquility of Greece, but instead, they felt like a cruel reminder of how far she had drifted from that part of her life.

She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror across the room, her eyes scanning her figure with a critical gaze. Her clothes clung to her in ways that did nothing to hide the parts of her body she wished were different. Underweight and yet somehow still not thin enough, her appearance seemed like a constant battle she couldn't win. She hated the way her body looked, the way it felt in her clothes, and the way it felt against her own self-loathing.

Her fingers absentmindedly twisted a strand of her curly hair, which had once been a source of pride but now felt like a wild, untamed mess she couldn't control. She longed for sleek, straight locks, the kind that seemed so effortless on others but eluded her own reflection. The more she tried to tame it, the more it seemed to rebel, a symbol of everything she wished she could change about herself.

Every meal was a struggle. Eating felt like a battleground between her desires and her self-criticism. She would sit at the kitchen table with a plate of food, her mind screaming at her for consuming it, even as her body needed the sustenance. She had grown accustomed to ignoring the voice that told her she wasn't enough, but it was harder when she was alone, when her thoughts became the loudest voice in the room.

The weight of loneliness pressed heavily on her chest. The bustling social scenes of her new life in OBX, the parties, the people, all felt like a facade. Behind the smiles and conversations, she felt isolated, trapped in her own mind. The constant comparison to her life back in Greece, where everything seemed simpler, more vibrant, left her feeling like she was constantly falling short. She missed the sun-drenched days, the Mediterranean air, and the sense of belonging she once had.

Margarita sighed, her breath trembling slightly as she stared at the colors around her. The olive green and sunset hues were supposed to be comforting, a connection to a home she missed deeply, but now they seemed to mock her. They were beautiful, but they only served as a reminder of what she felt she had lost.

The loneliness wrapped around her like a heavy blanket, suffocating and persistent. The feeling that no one truly liked her, that she was an outsider in her own life, gnawed at her. Every interaction, every glance, seemed like a reminder of her place on the periphery of the lives around her.

She sank into her bed, pulling the covers around her, trying to find solace in the softness, but the comfort was fleeting. She wished she could be someone else, someone who fit better, who was more liked, who didn't struggle with these feelings of inadequacy. But instead, she was left with the ache of her own mind, the harsh judgment she passed on herself, and the overwhelming sense that she was drifting further from the person she wanted to be.

The room, with its carefully chosen colors, felt like a cage. She had decorated it to reflect a part of herself, but now it felt like a prison of her own making, holding her captive in a cycle of self-doubt and regret. The vibrant hues that once represented a bridge to her past now seemed to trap her in her present reality, a reality she was struggling to accept.

Margarita closed her eyes, the weight of her thoughts making it hard to breathe. She longed for the simplicity of the past, for the easy laughter and the feeling of being truly seen and loved. But for now, she was left with the stark reality of her own mind, a place where the echoes of self-criticism and longing reverberated endlessly.

Margarita's thoughts spiraled as she lay curled up on her bed, the weight of her self-reflection pressing down on her. Her name, Margarita, was more than just a label; it was a reminder of who she used to be, of the life she left behind. In her mind, it was always tied to a past she missed deeply, a past where she felt more at ease with herself.