State of Mind

Waiting for Roses

It hurts. It hurts to remember everything that I try to forget. I don't know why, though. My bones are not broken, and my skin is not scarred by jagged cuts, but I still hurt. Agony consumes me, smothering me in its clutch. My chest feels tight and my breath is shallow, each gasp of air I take feeling like fire bursting from my lungs. My eyes are watery, and they burn. I feel weak.

How long have I been like this? Have I been crying? If so, for how long? I don't know. But, do I really want to know the answers? It seems like a trap. If I were to cross that boundary to quench my curiosity, I doubt it'd reap anything beneficial. In fact, I'm certain it'd only bring more pain.

Pain.

I can't help but snicker at the very thought of that word. Pain didn't concern him when he spun his web, trapping me. Pain didn't matter to him when he caressed my ears with his sweet lies, tempting me. Pain meant nothing to him when he turned and stabbed me in the back, leaving me crippled with sorrow. Then again, pain was meaningless to him because I was meaningless.

I already knew that. I have been aware of my worthless existence since I was a child. Him abandoning me as he had only reminded me of that fact. I am just one minuscule girl with a fleeting existence that will never impact the lives of those around me. That has been ingrained into my brain from the start. Or, so I tell myself.

I breathe in a haggard breath, my lungs burning as the cold air fills them. It's cool today. Autumn is alive in the atmosphere with the crisp breeze and chirping of birds. The leaves on the trees all burn brilliant yellows, reds, and oranges, all appearing like fire blowing in the wind. The clouds are hanging low, their charcoal mass blanketing part of the sky, only allowing small streams of golden hues to trickle down. I think it's supposed to rain today.

I shove my hands into my pockets and let out another sigh. The quietness is peaceful. I have room to think when silence is present. It is almost inviting in a way. My thoughts can roam freely with no repercussions...at least, that's what I choose to tell myself. Whether or not consequences invade me does not truly matter. The memories are already swarming me anyhow. All I can do now is just bask in the peacefulness of what is around me at the very least.

"Toni said you'd be here," a familiar voice says, pulling me from my thoughts.

I turn, my gaze colliding with a familiar icy stare. They are bright blue eyes filled with so much light, the smile on her face meeting the depth of them. Her smooth features are fair and radiant with youth. Her curly locks cascade down the sides of her face, the dim gleam dancing upon each honeyed strand. She is pretty...far prettier than me, and yet, she still stands beside me.

"Why are you here all by yourself?" she presses, glancing over the murky water. "It's not like you to drift off alone like this. What's up with that?" She brings her gaze to mine. "Is this about him?"

I bite my lower lip and glimpse away. I can't bring myself to meet her gaze. She is far too observant for my own comfort. I know she'll take one glance and read me like an open book and I don't know who I hate more for that. Her for being aware, or myself for being so easy to dissect. Then again, maybe that didn't matter. In the end, it was all inevitable. She already knew.

She sighs, "Look at you. You're moping around like some little teenage girl, crying over some asswipe who treated you like shit." She crosses her arms over her chest. "I honestly don't even know what you saw in the guy. He's a total tool and not worth your tears."

I glimpse up at her and hiss, "Did anyone ever tell you that you should be a motivational coach?"

"Hey, I speak the truth and you know it," she shrugs, glancing down at me. "Your mom and I both told you that he was an ass and yet you still chased after him like some little lovesick puppy. And, be honest, you know he's not worth crying over." She snorts, "Tch. I've had ice cream worth crying over more than him. Some really good ass ice cream, too. I'm talkin' blackberry chip from that place on Fourth and Vine Street. The one by Cods. That stuff is worth shedding some tears over."

"Good to know that your undying love for dairy sweets is so much more important than my feelings about him," I scoff, glancing over the lake.

The water is still, the breeze rolling off it almost chilling me to the bone. It's pretty, though. The way the colors on the trees reflect in the water like a mirror is a haunting beauty that speaks to me. I am well aware that those stunning leaves sporting their vibrant colors are slowly marching to their death. That's how fall works. The leaves change color from dull greens to piercing yellows, fiery oranges, and brilliant reds, each showing their beauty before falling from their branches one by one. I guess it disguises the horror of death with a comforting beauty. Feels odd to say, though.

Still, I like the way it looks. I like seeing all the colors and how they contrast against the muddy water of the lake. I also like the way the wind feels when it blows, its chilly fingers combing through my hair. Autumn might be a season associated with death, but it is one of beauty as well. I like it.

"I'm not trying to necessarily belittle what you're feeling," she continues, reminding me she is there. "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way, but what I meant is that you're wasting tears on a guy who doesn't deserve them. If he did, then you wouldn't feel this way."

"What makes you so sure?" I ask numbly, not tearing my stare from the scenery. "How would you know that?"

"Because, if he was worth it, then he wouldn't try to make you feel this way because he'd be too busy making you happy," she answers, resting her elbows on the wooden rail. "A man who truly loves a woman would show that. He would give her attention and would want to see her smile, not ignore her and go running to another woman. And the same when a woman loves a man. Do you see what I'm saying?"

I shrug, "I just see that I'm an idiot for loving him." I shrink down, dropping my arms on the rail and rest my chin on them. "I did know he was an ass. I knew that and yet I still allowed myself to fall for him like the dumbass I am. I'm so pathetic."

"You're not pathetic," she smiles, resting a hand on my shoulder. Her palm is warm and comforting. "You just love the wrong people too easily, but you're not pathetic. The right person will come along and love you just as much as you love them. You just need to focus on yourself and not Sir Douche-a-Lot." She giggles, "Cut your hair, pierce somethin', get a tattoo, learn how to kickbox, whatever. Do something for you and piece by piece you'll mold back together. Plus, you being happy without him is the best revenge."

I glimpse up at her. Certainty is written clearly across her features. She believes what she says is the truth and I can't help but agree. I know that dwelling in my self-loathing is pointless. I am the only one who suffers from it. He certainly doesn't. He's most likely happily smacking lips with her...that girl with the chestnut hair and hazel eyes. He's holding her close and calling her sweet names while speaking even sweeter lies. That was just what he did to me as well. We are both victims of his empty words, but I refuse to remain that way. He gave me nothing, but heartache and I have the audacity to shed tears over him.

She is right. He is not worth it. He is not worth crying over and feeling this empty for. He felt nothing for me. All those years I wasted on him...they were all pointless. A man like him was not a man at all. He was a coward dressed like a man. He wasn't worth it.

"Ya know, I hate when you're right," I smirk. "Will you help me dye my hair and go with me to get my tongue pierced?"

She grins, "Gladly." She hoops her arm through mine and we gaze at the scenery together. "What color?"

"Hmm," I hum, staring at a tree with scarlet leaves. "How about a shade of red?"

"Oh, a feisty color," she gushes. "I like it. Okay, tomorrow we'll dye your hair and go to Pete's shop to get your piercing."

I glimpse up at her and smile, "You're the best."

She playfully flips her hair with her free hand and jokes, "I know. They don't say best friend for nothin'."

He might not be my knight in shining armor, but she is my fairy godsister and she will be there for every toad I kiss until Prince Charming appears and beyond. That is a love a man cannot match. The love of a best friend.

© 2018 K.N. Herzner