Alyssa's Life
- Reads 237
- Votes 3
- Parts 3
Ongoing<5 mins
Last published Wed, Oct 30, 2013
I thought he loved me, I thought we would get married, And start a family. Well we did but not the way I wanted not like this we had one night together then he left me now 10 months later I have a little girl, and he still dosent know about her. My name is Alyssa and this is my story, in a world full magic, where you can find your soul mate at 18 an you even have powers but you have to be special enough, me? I'm not but at least I can still find my soul mate and If your wondering how we find them you will find a pull towards them and no one can reject each other without having a good enough reason, so saying that she's ugly (not that you will because you love your soul mate no matter what) is not a good reason. Keith, my boyfriend, wasn't my soul mate that's why he left I still loved him though but now I have someone I will love unconditionally, My daughter.
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A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.
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