She realized there was a pattern.
After kissing so many men.
It left an unpleasant taste in her mouth. A tiny chemical and biological reaction of rebellion against their male nature.
She said nothing as he squeezed her goodbye. Until next time.
She smiled because they never really know. Men never do.
I used to walk up and down those streets. I thought I was happy.
Sometimes he would walk with me. We never held hands.
We didn’t need to.
I was eighteen. I still feel the cool desert air kiss my skin. I still see him in the glow of the street lamps.
He started to unravel the rope, thread by thread. Until all that was left coming out of my heart was a single thread of spider’s silk. It’s one of the strongest materials on Earth. It could hold a car, or a building, and be taut.
There was a flash of the shears. Blood. But from me, not a single tear.
I blinked. He looks down.
He didn’t even know he was holding the scissors.
And his ocean of sorrow parted. He crashed and stormed and thundered around me. But I stood still. Unmovable. Still as stone.
I am feeling lost. I’m desperate to hold onto the things that keep me grounded. A kind voice on the phone, my camera and cigarette in one hand, my coffee in the morning. When the world around me is shifting, an earthquake quaking below my feet, I dig my nails into my skin. Searching for gravity, for weight. Any sort of stability to keep my feet on the ground.
It’s dangerous being free.
I believe in the country America used to be. I believe in the person I want to become. I believe in the freedom of the open road.
We had nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing that we desired anymore.
What do you believe in?
❤ Callie Lee