freewrite

The silence stiffened her. Every second was another empty hiss in the receiver. She could open her mouth and say something, but what was the use, it wouldn't make her feel any better. She was here in New York, he was far away, beyond the reach of her unmoving hand.

"yeah, i'm okay." it was a lie. nothing was okay. her feelings for him were slipping with every phone call they made. she couldn't touch him, he was becoming a memory and all too quickly. he wasn't there to comfort her, he wasn't there to tell her he loved her. empty promises meant she should let go. to protect herself.

"okay, i'll talk to you tomorrow then." and with a sentence, any last remaining hope of being saved was broken. the frayed rope just snapped in two and now she was going to bed alone. again.

she felt angry, sad, lonely, and empowered. it was one more nail in the coffin - something else to help her become stronger to live on her own. each time her feelings went unnoticed she became a pillar of her own strength, building the metaphorical wall around her heart. someday, she knew that wall would be too high for any man to climb. but maybe that's what she wanted all along.

but for now, the wall was only five bricks across, two bricks high. was it unhealthy to count the amount of times she was ignored, probably not. but she did. the calculations remained in her head like any good aquarian has an instinct to do. she'll hang on to that calculation for dear life because if she couldn't grasp that, she would fall apart.

now the doubt set in. was this really what she wanted? why had things changed so drastically. did she notice them change at all, or did she never really see clearly how things had been in the first place? he listened to her, complimented her style, looked past the body and into the mind. but is that how all men seethe their way into sex. was she completely take in by charm? it couldn't be that. if only for the reason that she was just as sexually charged, if not more so.

after doubt comes insecurity. maybe she's changed, and hasn't realized it. maybe she was better, or more appetizing when she wasn't the main course. isn't it true that you always want to try what someone else has? is history repeating itself? he's getting tired of her. there's no need to write stories or poems or tell her how much he loves her because he's already got her. what if she just doesn't have staying power? is that what happened the last time? is that why it didn't work out. she just wasn't good enough.

her mind is pacing back and forth, like she would do if she had the room in her small apartment. why couldn't she see that before? why does she think she can have what other women have? the face and body only lure them in, no matter what they say with their sweet talk.

she'll go to bed crying tonight, lonely and determined to live a lonely life in the end.