Imprisoned in Your Lies

Isabelle
Borgard

“Hey, can I sit here?” she asked. I stopped talking to the boy in front of me and looked at her with my glowing, happy face and told her that she could. Little did I know that would be the biggest mistake of my life.
I remember it like it was yesterday when in reality it was two years ago when I unknowingly ruined my middle school life and relationships within it. I was so young, so stupid, so jealous and scared that the one that I loved would have been taken away from me by “her”. He and I had only been together for a short while before she came in and tried to run away with him, the boy that I was carrying. She didn’t seem to care that I was holding his heart in my cold hands...she tried to rip him away from me and my ever so tight grip with her words, her appearance. She changed just for him. It is almost as though she loved him as much as I did.
For the longest time I did nothing about it and hoped that he would see clearly enough to choose me and not her, but he was falling under the spell that she was casting upon him making him delirious of his choices. This boy had saved my life, made me feel so different from what I felt at home with this “man” having such violent colours being spread with every breath that was taken in and out. Reds, oranges, and yellows were the colours flashing on the walls with every scream this “man” made towards me. As I tried to paint the walls with my words, the “man” would keep interrupting my painting by splashing his hurtful paintcan onto my wall. I never got a chance to show the world the beautiful painting that was living inside of me.
When I was with the boy, I would forget everything that was bad in my life. I would forget about “her” and the horrid “man”; everything that I felt about myself. But when I was alone, I hated myself. My painting, that was only on the inside of my body, would want to crawl out of me and paint its blue, sorrowful sky onto my walls. The painting would show me and my red face staring at “her” through my ocean of tears with my thoughts of how to be like her, how to be better than her. I would constantly compare my dried out, faded red hair to her bright, long, lively, yet fried waves of locks. I would compare my dull, creepy, soul staring blue eyes to her brown, easy going, sweet, yet decaying orbs of vision. My acne filled face to her porcelain skin; my broken heart to her repaired pump of life. Every smile she made towards the boy was another beam of light shining on him, showing him the way that he should go; the path that he should take because he was currently on a forever rainy day path that would only get tougher and tougher on him.
I ended up showing my emotion at the table we were all sitting at. Every day I would fill the surface with my hot, salty tears. I would try to keep this puddle a secret, but it didn’t work. The boy kept asking me what was wrong and I would quickly wipe the puddle away and smile at him, telling him that I was fine. He would look at me for just a second and say okay, and start talking and laughing with her yet again. Talking and laughing, their voices combined were filling my mind. Their voice together became so distorted. I thought of what I could do; I was going crazy not having a solution of how to stop him, the boy I love, from being ripped away from me by “HER”. They always talked with each other, whether it be on social media, or passing notes. She would always post up pictures of him onto her social media page, telling everyone how amazing the boy was, and how his hair was getting to be so long, how sweet he was, how amazing he was. She would always talk about him, and I hated her for that.
One day, after school, I told the boy how I felt. I told him how insecure I was about them always talking to each other and having so much fun together without me. I asked him through my breaking, shaking, cracking voice to please not talk to her anymore. To just ignore her, to shut her out; and he agreed. His vision was more clear than I thought, he truly loved me, he wasn’t under her spell! I was so relieved, so happy! My smile grew to be so big and wide, yet so horribly ugly due to the ocean of tears that were previously filling it up. Too bad this didn’t last.
About a month later, after so much bliss between the boy and I had been shared, I found something out that was absolutely confounding. He had been talking to her the whole time behind my back. He had been lying to me, he had been keeping me astray from what I needed to know. I despised him in the moment of terror. I wouldn’t talk to him, for I knew that with what he had done, he was still under “her” spell. Now, this wasn’t a matter of asking him to not talk to “her”, it was either talk to her, and leave me; or never talk to her again and keep the one that he claims to love. I knew that her breath was poison, and the boy was breathing it in-yet he still..eventually..started to see clearly. He was so blind when the fog that she was creating was consuming him but no matter what she tried to do, I would break it and save the boy. I couldn’t let him be taken from me. I would see every trap that she put down for him, and warn him; letting him know of what was going to happen next, yet he would make the life choice. I would watch and ponder-waiting to see what he would do, because each choice he made was a life changing decision for the boy. I got tired of all of these traps, so I told “her” to leave him alone; to stop passing notes; to get out of his life because she is just a danger to his future. She would always refuse and claim that she was doing nothing wrong. It is strange to see how blind people are to their own wicked actions.
Since she decided to not leave the boy alone, I would take him from her. I would change the roles. I would be the one consuming her happiness, being that the one that she loved..was gone. The boy would finally be with the one that he claims to love most and we would live together “happily ever after”.