It's About Us

Collecting Dust

Helga made it home by herself. Her family had gone to the movies after her graduation. She was glad to be home alone. In her room, she gingerly removed the dress as to not ruin it. She got back into her comfy, large clothes and headed to the bathroom.

Helga examined herself in the mirror. There wasn't any emotion behind her eyes. Nothing was showing on her face. Tired, maybe or even boredom but she was not crying. It was over. Three years of hoping for more ended with an indecisive answer. Which she shouldn't have been surprised about. Maybe that's why she's not crying.

Opening the medicine cabinet, Helga looked for and found the make-up wipes. She took her time to make sure she removed it all. When she finished, she washed her face thoroughly. It was to erase as much of the day as she could. Going back to her room, she locked her door and went to her closet.

Behind her clothes is where all of her journals were stored, safely. She just stared at them. They contained everything she's ever felt contained within their pages. When she used to look at them, they made her happy. Knowing that her thoughts of love filled each page with beautiful words. Now, she felt nothing. They are just dust collectors. 

Helga leaves her room and heads to the attic. Grabbing a box, she returns to her closet and starts putting all of her journals away. Gently, she stacked them into the box. When it was full, she closed the box and in the attic it went. Out of sight, out of mind. She didn't even label the box, just placed it in the back where no one would find it. Where no one would look for it.

After closing up the attic door, Helga returned to her room. As she walked by her open closet door, she could see the empty shelves. They were once the proud spot of all her memories. Everything she couldn't say out loud or share with anyone else. She moved her clothes to cover the pain and closed the door.

Helga crawled into her bed and picked up her book. All she wanted to do was to continue reading. She had barely made it a page before she saw a water droplet hit the page. She looked to her celling to see if there was a leak. No leak. When she went back to reading, two more drops hit the page.

Helga brought her hand to her face. Tears. She was crying. She didn't feel sad, but she knew better. A long time ago Helga had trained herself to become numb. That's what she was. She was numb to the real pain that tormented her. Normally, she was excellent at keeping her true feelings at bay until they just went away on their own. Not today.

Pain and sorrow ran so deep that even Helga's numbness couldn't stop the flow of tears. She feared what heartache really felt like but was too ashamed to allow herself to feel. Now she couldn't hide from it. Arnold made it clear to her that, even if he did like her, he would never love her. 

Helga sat with her hands opened. The tears fell from her eyes to the palms while she watched. Her vision blurred and blinking didn't stop her eyes from becoming blurry again. Her breath started to burn. She tried so hard to not allow her sorrow to overwhelm her.

Helga failed. 

Shaking, Helga could only cover her mouth as the pain, sorrow, and regret hit her like a freight train. She wailed into her hands as her tears filled her cheeks. Her chest hurt as her heart broke. She threw herself on her pillow to muffle the sound. No one was home, but she didn't want to hear it echo off the walls.

Never in all of Helga's life could she have prepared for knowing what allowing someone in would feel like when they left. She could barely take it. The pillow soaked up the sound and the tears of her pain. She just wished for numbness to return or to just pass out. The pain came in waves. Every hit was worse than the last one. Was this really worth it?