Blue Lies

Dark room, blue couch, one blanket, sitting side beside, staring at the blank white wall in front of us. We always sit here, we always stare, he always asks, I always lie.

            “Tell me a secret about yourself.” There is this black dot about right were I always stare, it looks like a smashed bug.

            “Like what?”

            “Anything.”

Anything. Anything, like how much I hate the couch we always sit on. Or that I hate my smile because it reminds me so much of my mothers, which I also hate. You don’t want to know that type of anything do you? I dream about us constantly. They usually end with one of us leaving. I am afraid of abandonment. Do you want to know that I will never marry you, but I know that you think I will? I know that you are going to propose tomorrow, I will say no. My worst fear is divorce. Did you know that I am a natural pessimist? I like to act cheery, but I really hate when people are truly optimistic. When you tell me that everything is going to be okay, I want to hit you. I listen to Harry Potter tapes when I’m depressed. I will always love Harry Potter. I hate your hair cut. When you asked me if I like it, I lied. I lie a lot. Like the blue bracelet that you gave me, it wasn’t stolen; I lost it two years ago. I hated that bracelet and I hated the fact that you loved me enough to give it to me. I don’t believe you when you tell me that you love me. I hate the black bean soup that your mother makes. I hate every type of food that you find appetizing. I don’t understand why you don’t hate me yet. When I was five I ate a whole bag of dog food and threw up all night long. Later that year my dog died. I now hate dogs. Since I was three I have been terrified of clowns. I dread every time you take me to the circus. I don’t like how calm you are. I’m happy when you are upset. I’ve never gone to the doctor’s for my headaches. Instead every week when you think I’m going, I go shopping with your sister. We talk about you. I’ve never understood how you can be so nice; your sweetness makes me sick. I don’t like the ring that you bought me, the one that I will not accept. Because I do not want to marry you because I do not love you. Is that the anything you want?

            “Umm, when I was twelve I want to change my name to Mary.”

He smiled at me, satisfied. And turned back toward the wall.

Dark room, blue couch, one blanket, sitting side beside, staring at the plain white wall in front of us. We always sit here, we always stare, he always asks and I always lie.

 

Reviews

[Des]

Wow, that was amazing. I really, really liked it. I can't wait to see more of your writing.

[deactivated account. pl..]

You know I love this piece.
So, so much.