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She finally cried at 10:24amET.
Not much salt water droplets because she was still incredulously stunned: rejection.
Her hands itched, and she wanted to throw the cat against the wall for waking her up so much, but it was herself she wanted to throw away. The orange cat just did what it did - and she rewarded the behavior she so abhorred. It was like the unneeded validation that she would be a terrible parent.
Work existed. Exercise existed. Distractions ensued; however, it was hard for her to stop that loop in her head: he's not into you anymore. He has ignored you longer than he ever has.
The feathers from the dead female cardinal were getting tangled up in the spider web looking like spinning magic things. The wind pleased her. It would please her more if there was a thunderstorm that knocked out all power to her domicile.
It all seemed so pointless ... again. Erica Dunto was getting a nepotism director gig, employing many of her beloveds -including the butterfly boy - and she sat with a widening ass waiting for someone she might love to love her back.
She went over all the scenarios - why would someone not at least write back with a reaction emoji or something. She had moved the Norfolk fucking pine to another room, and now she didn't have to directly look at its own death. She could concentrate on her own ego's.
Who would have wanted her anyway - in the longest haul way - the watching you die part. She was obviously an insane gambit - only good for situationships that made her vomit from the self-betrayal.
The little girl sobs constantly inside her going "nobody ever likes us. we're weird and stupid and annoy people." She had tried so very hard to be a cool girl.
The same yellow butterfly flies by and she can't even be bothered to notice if she'd already mentioned the new blooms on the fucking geranium.
She was hanging on by a daisy's petal...
"why do you think that nobody loves you."
"I'm a discarded daughter of course - a broken thing tossed on the pile of billions of us."
"that's such an old story."
"what would you suggest I do? it all only quiets when I die."
"You know that's not true."
She rolls her eyes hard and kicks a metaphorical puppy.
"fuck you. you get to tell me what exactly. nothing."
"why are you even talking to me then?"
"don't humiliate me further. I'm talking to you because if I don't, I'll go even crazier. I have to have someone reflect something back to me. It feels better to go ahead and get rejected than to actually ask or try."
"whoa. control freak much."
"All the fucking time."
She wondered about that little girl though. She wished she could reach her and pick her up and let her sob on her chest while she rocks her and tells her how much she loves her.
But that wasn't going to happen. Instead, she would try to find some tomatoes - the good kind that are too delicate to sell at supermarkets and bullshit fake produce stands. She breathed a lot - so far.
The little girl couldn't be ignored though. The only thing to do would be to use her imagination. Pretend. She had been so good at it when she was all alone for so much of her world. She so didn't want to be alone, yet it often felt so much more comfortable than being without you.
She tried to concoct a hopeful scenario, but she was disorganized attached. Hope was a fucking danger to her. Hope hurts. She would try to think that maybe you're too busy. Maybe you wised up. Maybe she would never see you again and she could take a sledgehammer to the candle you let her borrow - along with the Florida sunshine.
And what did it matter anyway? Was she going to try to do it again - marriage #3 to some mythical creature who would want to talk to her and kiss all her bruises. What could she do for him?
She looked at the citrus squeezer that she had purchased for both of them - of course it was fucking yellow as was everything. She thought of taking a picture and sending it to him - her unsweet iced lemonade. Had he not ignored her last two messages, she would definitely do so. He had left her on silence. She could take it up to a point, yet after a while, it reeked of "I don't care about you."
She thought of turning off her ringer or turning off her phone so she couldn't feel the rejection in real time, yet she had tried these tricks before. You know what the hardest part is? when you turn it back on to nada.
"tell me more about wanting to be curious about the little girl"
"the imaginary little girl who every part of me wants to always protect?"
"Do you have other little girls inside you?"
"legions of course. they all exist to cry."
"Don't you find that so tired?"
"Lady, you abandoned me first. I'm definitely tired."
"why can't you..."
"just be sober? I like that song too. Some little boy gave it to me easter weekend."
"I was going to say - but let me reframe it. Would you like to do something else instead of manage a plethora of pity?"
"after... I'll just answer you."
She wept like there was no next breath. It didn't matter the technique.
"he loves me. he loves me not. he loves me. he loves me not."
"ok. so why are you always with the crying girls?"
"no one else ever hears them of course. They just want someone to hear them."
"come on. Don't they really just want to stop crying?"
"first things first mommy."
"ok, you tell me you little brat."
"oh, I think I've earned big brat dear. they don't want anyone to skip it - to act like it never happened and to just get over it. They want someone to give a shit that it hurt so much to be alone in the dark with the only comfort being indecent evil touches with angry choruses screaming at their hidden beauty."
"how about a little less drama."
"you kill me."
"again."
Narcissi clenched her fist.
"All day - I'm this pathetic creature that waits for the juice of some external validator to say something like 'hi' in the special ring text tone I've assigned for him. The only time they stop crying really is when they think someone might actually see their creation - like really see it - well me. It's absurd. I'm a million years old, and all I want to do is kiss a frog prince."
She was done talking with the cold super shiny marble. The screaming would have to stop sometime.
She enjoyed the possibility. It was nice, and it probably would have fizzled out later anyway. It was much much much much easier to surface it up and just stop trying. There was always a new show.
"If only you could pretend to yourself you could do such a thing"
"have you seen my life lady? I'm great at nothing."
Her mother slaps her.
"there, now you have something real to cry about. the rest of that shit is all gone, and when I tell you to wipe yourself off and get up. It's not that I don't HEAR YOU. I can't stop hearing my own fucking screaming. Do you finally get it? I am sick of ... "
Narcissi reached into the water.
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