Short Story of a Girl – No One
Image© Anand Vishnu Prakash, YourStoryClub.com
Life’s not fun especially when you’re poor and single. Everybody feels like tying you down to a friend or some man or woman they deem ready for action. When you tell them you aren’t ready their mouths pops out their head’s crazy assumptions. They say you don’t want to get into it because you’re afraid you’ll be exposed. Yes! They assume you’re hiding something about your sexuality which might embarrass you if is let out in the open. Whenever you listen to a radio programme, you hear people discussing topics with their listeners and you think to yourself; wait a minute isn’t I that they’re yapping on about?
On those days when you got to be doing something to keep your mind busy and off the world and its dramas, you realise that though you may be filling trolleys week on end at the nearest Supermarts, that you have no one to share your breakfast, lunch and supper with. There’s no one to share your little secrets with and no one to correct you whenever you’re stepping out of line. No one. You spend most of your time trying to let gadgets and other electronics to fill up the void left by another person. He used to be there for you and care for you. That bloody fool used to clean, open windows for you, heal you when you felt pain inside and outside.
He was like your god and you once wished he had all powers and was eternal but another woman came or he invited her because he just wanted someone to dine with because as a busy, responsible woman, you were out there in the world following God’s other orders because you know and live with the fact for most of you time; you’re living in sin and there’s no man to take you out of it.
All men you come across are either kids who are wet behind the ears and spend most of their time chasing skirts — instead of asking you how should he please you in whichever way imaginable. He leaves you because you aren’t showing the guts of women he sees in movies and sitcoms. You being quiet my dear, has invited trouble and other women love him more than you.
Sometimes you crack your expensive items in anger as you wonder how come he no longer show you love like he used to. And as they say; the answer is in the pudding. You and I know what that means. We know because we’ve been through a lot in this life and things we’ve gone through are identical. It’s just that you and I are of the same sex and like our other friends we don’t want to take a short-cut to victory.I what I did but now regret because whatever people does in this life there are repercussions.
We may be happy in each others arms, be able to buy each other expensive scents and lingeries and fresh flowers but our sameness will surely set tongues wagging. Like I, you’re beautiful and smart and smart always makes people rough. I sometimes wish I could hold you close, let your body and mine whisper in tandem like we’re made for each other but I got a dream of being either on top of or under a man. I hope you get to understand that I wink at you only when I’m tipsy but when I’m sober, being a woman, a wife and a daughter to mister and miss Isaacson is all I ever think of.
I know how capable you’re of making a mess with my life but I’ve to tell you this; sometimes dreams are just that dreams. What I’m hoping for is no longer a dream but a destiny and I wish you could create your own path and be prepared to share it with your own man. I’m getting tired of people talking about how you and I will never come right.
They hold thoughts cynical and I hate them for thinking maybe you and I would like to play for a team which I’m scared to mention. I like you when you’re all dressed and behind the counter serving people up. I once wanted to do the same job as you but I now find me being a secretary to a company of stupid me. Men who like my ex-boyfriend doesn’t know how a woman feel and hurt her everyday with their stupid comments. I wish to lay a man down and unfortunately my dear, it isn’t you. I don’t want to be seen to be unsocial or unaccommodating but seductive.
I visit you now and again at the store hoping to hear you tell me; let’s go man hunting. All around me there are men and you’ve observed my interaction with them last time you paid me a visit. It’s like they only seem to want to talk to I when you’re around. I so wish you find an excuse in your six days a week work schedule to come visit my place—I think maybe when you’re with me, man-hunting wouldn’t be such difficult a task. Stop thinking about what I did to you when I myself never understood how to love.
I know you’re forgiving and I knew back then that you’ll recover from all the hurt I had caused you by stealing men from you over and over again. Instead of shedding tears, you should be thanking your lucky stars I took them from you before they cause you more harm. To be frank, I’m more hurt than you’re because I took what belonged to you and made me mine. Do you think I can’t hear people talk, do you think I was happy when my best friend called me a slut in front of other of her friends? No! The answer will be like that and it will never take another direction unless I start doing same things I did to you before.
–END–
