Lavínia
plalace
- Feb 19, 2024
- 113
Ever since I was a child, I've had a scenario imagined in my head. I was loved by a boy named Ariel. He was beautiful, sweet, and happy to take care of me. We had a house on top of a small hill, in an endless green field. The climate was serene, with rain once a week. The house had an open area where we could sit and gaze at the landscape. I made coffee with him, tea, we talked, and almost always cuddled.
I even had a special room, a "mind palace" type. I'd enter, and another scene would unfold. A hallway, the floor was freshly grated, but in the middle were elegant stones to walk on. Stone pillars on the sides, symmetrical to each other, Greek-style. On each pillar was something I struggled to remember. It was fun.
In the playground, away from the other children, when I still didn't know what to do, when I wandered around lost. When I ate sand and felt the crackle in my mouth, finding it strange that there was salt without flavor. I thought he would appear on the horizon, laughing, coming to hug me. Ariel. He would gently hold my hand and make me stop eating sand, explaining why, since no one else did.
On my church visits, wanting to learn but finding it boring, time tearing and piercing me, a ghoul grinding my brain little by little, so that I couldn't do anything. He would burst through the door, shouting my name. Supernaturally, he would carry me flying like Peter Pan. I would hold his hand, and I felt safe. I no longer needed to fear what I was.
Back in the high school, when I understood that I was thinking but couldn't express it. When I was afraid of showing weakness, and only avoided bullying and harassment because I was a little taller. When I endured the infernal noise of people laughing and shouting, and felt the ghoul again, with long, cold nails digging into and massaging my brain, driving me slowly mad, day after day. I thought he would walk through the door, declare he was my lover, that I had a different name, that I had a different story. That I wasn't of this world, that I didn't need to fear death or life, that he would take me home. And I drank hot coffee next to him there, forgetting everything here.
In high school, with my mind changing. Loving, hating, understanding, becoming confused. With much more fear.
At my first job, begging.
At my second and current job, at first, wondering.
Continuing to imagine, wondering where he was. Why did he never show up? Why did he never save me? Why did he never show me, or others, that I was loved? That I was a source of pride, and kindness, to anyone?
Ariel. Ariel. Ariel.
I realized I gave up on you.
I even had a special room, a "mind palace" type. I'd enter, and another scene would unfold. A hallway, the floor was freshly grated, but in the middle were elegant stones to walk on. Stone pillars on the sides, symmetrical to each other, Greek-style. On each pillar was something I struggled to remember. It was fun.
In the playground, away from the other children, when I still didn't know what to do, when I wandered around lost. When I ate sand and felt the crackle in my mouth, finding it strange that there was salt without flavor. I thought he would appear on the horizon, laughing, coming to hug me. Ariel. He would gently hold my hand and make me stop eating sand, explaining why, since no one else did.
On my church visits, wanting to learn but finding it boring, time tearing and piercing me, a ghoul grinding my brain little by little, so that I couldn't do anything. He would burst through the door, shouting my name. Supernaturally, he would carry me flying like Peter Pan. I would hold his hand, and I felt safe. I no longer needed to fear what I was.
Back in the high school, when I understood that I was thinking but couldn't express it. When I was afraid of showing weakness, and only avoided bullying and harassment because I was a little taller. When I endured the infernal noise of people laughing and shouting, and felt the ghoul again, with long, cold nails digging into and massaging my brain, driving me slowly mad, day after day. I thought he would walk through the door, declare he was my lover, that I had a different name, that I had a different story. That I wasn't of this world, that I didn't need to fear death or life, that he would take me home. And I drank hot coffee next to him there, forgetting everything here.
In high school, with my mind changing. Loving, hating, understanding, becoming confused. With much more fear.
At my first job, begging.
At my second and current job, at first, wondering.
Continuing to imagine, wondering where he was. Why did he never show up? Why did he never save me? Why did he never show me, or others, that I was loved? That I was a source of pride, and kindness, to anyone?
Ariel. Ariel. Ariel.
I realized I gave up on you.
