Run

If walls could talk, they would reassure her it was never her fault…and that was all I ever intended to do.

I would tell you the chaotic experiences and the psychological tricks being played were, indeed real, that it was far from deserved, that you weren't crazy. I would witness you being confined in a home of empty rooms, foyer under renovations, furnished with a sense of complacent interim. You had a personality embodying one of a majestic Queen, yet here you were, all because you did not know of your royal status.

She was a vibrant, spicy woman full of wonder, spunk and obscure fantasy. A fantasy where she would find a purposeful calling in art leading towards spiritual awakening and freedom. But, for the sake of it, she abandoned it all, shying away from the light she instilled, dimming the beam to appease, for the sake of love, for the sake of it. She would place herself in dimmed rooms with him in hopes to reap the benefits of nurture, the justice of experiencing gentleness, the erotic sensation of an everlasting rush. Her obsession with experiencing such fantasies kept her in this vacant home, spending most nights scurrying down the hall to the smallest of rooms where she’d always find me. She’d lay the side of her body against me, piercing her ears to my stomach, praying for the courage to stand, to get out,

To Run.

On most days, when she was in this room with me, she would play a soothing tune. The frequencies of sound bowls coming from her phone as she would sit in the middle of the room, eyes closed, swaying from side to side. And whenever she would leave, she’d intentionally keep the door propped open so I could listen for her, to protect her, to keep her safe. Because who else was gonna? Late nights, I would recall the moments of shouting leading to crying leading to moaning and grunting leading to snoring slumber. And, then, one night, as the snores danced down the halls, I would hear her small feet scurry away from them. I knew she was coming to see me.

Her favorite place to sit is always in the middle of the room, being the center of attention. I watched her stare out of the four paned window as the moonlight bounced off of me, head slightly tilted. I’d watch her from behind, wondering whether or not she had stopped breathing. As she took a deep breath, I could hear her voice tremble, eyes wide shut as tears forcefully popped, rolling down her chunky cheeks. She would say to me,

“For eighteen months, I’ve held back from trying to control. For eighteen months, I would just let it flow. Because I just knew he would show up for me the way I rightfully deserve. Because I deserve it, right? For eighteen months, I would pray for that charming restoration of the senses: the satisfying touch of when he told me he couldn’t live without me, the joyous sounds of when he said he’d do whatever it takes to fix it, the sensual taste of when he looked at me as if he couldn’t believe I was his, and the convincing smell of the idea that he was ready to make a change.

But he’s pretending, right? He has no intention of giving it to me, right? He just wanted to play on the fantasy that lives in my mind.

Hmph....Play.

But why play? Why can’t he just do it? It's not that hard, just fulfill the fantasy! Why he gotta make shit difficult! Why he won't just change for me, CHANGE FOR ME! I don’t want anyone different, why can’t HE just be different? Why won’t he follow my lead, what is he so afraid of? What am *I* so afraid of?”

***

If walls could talk, they would reassure you this was stripping you of your glorified image, your dignity, your magnitude. I would let you know that you were holding onto a man with no intentions of changing for you, but doing just enough that you believe he actually will, merely to keep you bound. I would tell you that you are a majestic Queen, being intentionally discouraged from acknowledging your royal status because he wants you to himself. I would tell you that what you’re experiencing right now are merely psychological tricks being played, that it is far from deserved, and that you aren’t crazy. And I would tell you to stand up, to get the fuck out,

And Run.