The final dialogue…
Consistency! Consistency is all us women ask for. Nothing more or nothing less. Consistency. That is not a lot to ask for. So why do you continually conjure up this illusion that we demand the world?
It was rhetorical! I am not asking for you to dive into the depths of the ocean and present me with mother nature’s finest pearl. My only desire is that you remain consistent in your thoughts, words and gestures. Katie Perry once did say that:
“you change your mind like a girl changes clothes.”
It’s funny that your fickle nature has been metaphorically reduced to the number of occasions us females change clothes. What does that say about you? I mean in the beginning you were my knight in shining armour, I mounted on your horse and we rode into a blissful paradise. I felt secure emotionally, physically and mentally in your arms, as you showered with me the sweetest compliments, kisses and relationship talk. You made me feel like I was the one, your queen, your woman.
No you listen! You played me like a pack of cards. I was willing to give you my heart, but you would rather lay down the cruel joker. You toyed with me, played with my emotions, was this all just a game to you? You fed me with false pretences, left me wandering deeper into your labyrinth, which at first blossomed with the ripened fruits of love and commitment. I must admit I was tempted and gave into the inviting scent, until my tongue tasted and rejected the decaying, lifeless flesh. Yes, that protecting shield once so shiny and bold, now weak and smothered in rust.
How is it that my every thought still remains contaminated with images, memories and useless dreams of you. I would love to progress and open a new chapter, but my heart remains haunted, pumping your name, duplicated a million times, flowing through each vulnerable vein; the seed of my addiction. Your name; enough to send shivers of pitiful excitement down my spine.
However, like a drug, I must rid my system of your ever lingering presence, your strong hold, your suffocating scent. Yes, like a drug, I must pump you out of my soul, my every breath, my every thought, my every word. I am old enough to walk away, old enough to move on, old enough to seek for better. So while you sit here, mind still youthful and ignorant, I will pack my teaching material, leave this classroom and take my first steps towards freedom, and you will pack your school bag, return home and complete this outstanding assignment: ‘how to grow up’.
Image from Celynek