ihavebeenfloated

Her happiness stinks up the room. She’s been in here for a few months, pacing wall to wall, and I’ve always been happy to see her around until now. For a long time, the sight of her brought joy to me, and I’d often spend long stretches of time just sitting back and watching her mull around. A few times I’d step in and dance with her, twirling her around the room to the music that played only for us. It was nice, I felt solid, tangible.

But, it’s all changed now. She’s got this new man with her, and this smile on her face that, though I know it’s the same one she wore with me, looks twisted and full of malice when it’s directed at me. He courts her, and in full view of me, they partake in activities that my heart wont allow me to describe. I don’t know why she’d bring this guy in here, and God how I wish they would leave. But they don’t, they stay. She stays.

Sometimes I go and get right in her face, screaming things, “Why the fuck don’t you get out of here? You’re not welcome anymore!” But she just looks through me and continues on smiling at her new man. Often I just end up sitting in the corner and mumbling in her direction. The things I say, I wont repeat, because I have too much respect for myself at this point to repeat the sorrowful words I utter in my weakest moments.

I try to distract myself from her with other people who enter and exit this room. A friend of mine shows up on occasion and I try to hang around him for a bit, but usually he’s distracted away from me and ends up talking to people through the doorway, people I can’t see and don’t know. I end up feeling stranded and vulnerable.

There’s a guy I would have sworn I just read about in some book. His name is David Lurie. I walk up to him and ask, “How’s life going, after that whole stint with your daughter?” But he just looks at me and shakes his head, and I know that even if he could speak, it wouldn’t be to me. This man doesn’t belong to me, and he wont utter his secrets to me no matter how hard I try to summon them.

Another character, a junkie named Bob Arctor comes in through the doorway and mulls around confused. He walks over to the girl that never leaves and tries to start up a conversation, but she’s too involved with her new man to pay attention to him. He paces around the room for a while, living out scenes from the life of his that I knew. I don’t bother trying to talk to him, it’s much more entertaining just to watch him. Eventually he pops a few little white pills into his mouth and lays down on the floor. He fades of out existence shortly after.

Trent Reznor walks in. He starts singing, “Every day is exactly the same, there is no love here and there is no pain,” directly to me and I can’t help but feel a tiny bit moved. But like everyone else here, except for that ever present woman, he fades from view and I’m left alone staring at her.

I walk in through the front door and I’m transfixed, watching myself. My shoulders are hunched and I look like I haven’t showered in a week. I walk up to the girl, and although I can’t hear what I’m saying, my lips are moving. She looks at me, puts her hand on my shoulder in an obvious act of sympathy, and moves her lips in a pattern unfamiliar to me. My shoulders straighten up, and I run my fingers through my hair, straightening it. I already look more presentable. My bloodshot eyes clear up and I actually crack a smile. I stride out of the door with a purposeful posture that I’m pretty sure I’ve never actually carried except in absolute falsehood.