You VS Me

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Who are you and who is me? Breif inspiration from a Finger Eleven song.

Submitted: August 04, 2012

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Submitted: August 04, 2012



Remember those days? Those days when the snow fell down like an immobile salt shaker releasing it's anger on the people below. My eyes show bags beneath them, deep and dark circles from staying up late into the night and then rising the next morning, expecting to be refreshed only to be disappointed day after day. Do you remember when I wore long sleeves every day, because I “hated my arms” and I did. They were fat. Remember when I never brought any lunch even though you always conjured up an idea to try and get some. Excuse after excuse. Did I actually eat before I came? I don't remember now. Also, the days when I did wear short sleeves because the heat was burning me up, and you saw small cuts on my forearms. Do you remember what you said? “Oh. You're cat must have did those.” You still tried to assume I was normal, that I was just like you. Do you remember that the only guy that could make me happy was online, millions of miles away? How about that time when you asked my to go swimming in an indoor pool, of course? I turned you down, but you just knew how badly I wanted to go. Remember when all of this occurred? It was Year 10. You remember that as the dark period. The times when I was not my usual bubbly self.

Do you know what I thought of that year? I remember how many nights I stayed up late trying to write a brilliant story. I remember the snow, falling and falling, trying to bury me in it's flakes. I remember wishing it did because that would be the best thing. The long sleeves I usually wore, was also worn with a mask of pain for every time someone touched my arm, I flinched away, thinking they had to have guessed. Each time, though, they had not and I was relieved. I remember my stomach growling loudly, and always refusing the food, no matter what it was. I played a dangerous game to try to go two days without food. Or three. But I always would loose the game. I remember that whole year, I never played with my cat once, since he took cover from the snow elsewhere. I remember the guy who supposedly liked me, never told me. But, this year, Year 12, he did. And I know why I refused. I remember the pool and thinking how refreshing the water would be, and about how much fun we would have. I remember me sitting in a corner instead, listening to music. Do you remember all those things?

I do. I also know our roles here. 'You' are me. And I am here. You are here too, inside of me, telling me how smart and funny and beautiful I am. All I can hear though it me shouting from the sidelines about how ugly, deranged, and blan I actually am. Like the collision of two football bodies set into motion, you and me crashed. You and me crashed. The wreckage is still not clear, and there is smoke covering the wreck like a curtain. When it rises though, then we will find out the winner of this inner struggle. Baby, it's you vs. me again, and there isn't enough room for both of us.

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