I am my only audience.

A Story by Viktorsha

Waking up to a rainy morning is one of the most dreadful things to manage,I'm wrapped up in spiral under a big white blanket looking like a cocoon. The walls in the bedroom would usually look grey from the gloominess of the outside, but the cotton scarlet curtains filter the light that leaves a more somber veil over my face. Over my face and over my heart to be exact. Why do the things that I know best ,feel the most distant to me? I'm never able to live in the present. Instead, I keep jumping back between the past and the future like a ping pong ball. Both sides taste equally sweet and yet I can't choose. I've caught three of your ghosts on the train home from work. Three more, while reading yesterday's paper and one last night in my dream.I'm not the woman or the girl you thought that I was, and I will probably never be. To be honest, I don't even know who I am. Even in dreams, always putting on narcissistic acts and engraving them into your brain to give off a different illusion of myself. But will I ever find out why you loved me? Or do you still? I think that you do. I write, I sit, think and I write. And you might never read this, but I say thank you for loving me, even if you did just fall for the illusion of the swollen-headed girl.