Broken strings & Pretty things

The world, seen through a young girl's eyes.

This can’t be.

“Sorry…say that again?”

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I don’t understand.

After all this time? After everything? Right now?

Thoughts flash through my head like a strobe light in the empty darkness. It’s impossible for you to be like this; for this to happen.
I try to put the information back into my head, and rearrange it like a cryptic puzzle piece, but it’s no use, it doesn’t fit altogether. The picture is fragmented and distorted, with overlaps and gaps and twists in the deep maze of it all.
It just doesn’t make sense.

But sure enough, the piece slips into place as my brain unveils the truth, carving a new joins and links in the story.
How you’d always been with me, how you treat me differently, how you couldn’t talk to me when she was in the room with us.

But it isn’t right. You’re supposed to belong to someone else. I don’t want to see you like that again.
I’m not ready, I’m far from being ready.

I stand there, the information pulsing thick through my body at a hundred beats per minute.
I still don’t fully understand, and I really don’t know what to do. I’m not the girl who takes someone elses’ fairytale, and I most certainly am not going to become that girl now. I can’t do that, and I won’t do that.
I stare at the writing, as if it will change and conjugate a new paragraph, saying that you didn’t mean it, that you were still just my friend that I’m supposed to be looking out for. Saying that you only love me as a friend, and that’s only how you’ve ever felt, and ever will.
But it doesn’t say that.
Maybe I read it wrong. Maybe I took it the wrong way. Maybe by liking me, you only mean it as something much more innocent.
But I haven’t.

So what do I do?
The only thing I can do: nothing.


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