vertigo

"It's just not going to work. "

She said to herself for the nth time three hours past lying down. Finally on her back, she stared at the ceiling and said it again, louder, and with frustration in her voice. She took a pillow and buried her face under it, like she always does when she's pissed off.

In the darkness she can recall how it looks in the clear. That wall beside her had a fresh picture up, one she just printed a few weeks back. She's been gushing about him ever since she posted it on the wall, that wall, with the other pictures of the other men she's been with. She can distinctly remember how it started and ended with all of them. Much like how she posted this last one, and how she is towards this last one now.

"it's not going to work. It's just not going to."

She keeps repeating it to herself, mumbling under the soft pillow. Losing air with each time she does. She hopes she can learn and say it's over. This cycle is over.

She's fallen for that boy, that unlikely being, after she had sworn not to the last time. Why she gets the wrong ones, she doesn't know. Why she doesn't seem to fish a good boy to treat her right, she can't decipher. She's been a good girl, so why all this heartbreak? More than once, she's been told that she's pretty much ideal. She knows she deserves better but why can't she seem to find that nice guy? Why does it always have to be so damn complicated?

She took out the pillow from her face and spun a bit with the entry of light. Her eyes stained with tears, she looked at herself in each photo, smiling happily, maybe at that time thinking that she found what she was looking for.

And then she looked at that boy again, this new one, who turned her down for her own good. She remembered him and the rest of them saying that they didn't want to hurt her. Hah. Too late.

She sat up to look at the photo closer. Vertigo. The dots took their places and there she was, back in the moment the picture was taken, hugging that man that she now refuse to invest emotions on.

She moved the picture to a side, making space for a new one. Just a blank space, hoping next time she can stare into a picture that she won't have to set aside again.

They refuse to love her, because they refuse to hurt her. But every time she sits up to do this, she has to recover from losing herself in the spinning light.

She lies back down, tears falling one after the other, hoping the empty space can soon be filled.