-What are you doing?
-Nothing. Looking out.
-Nothing. He isn’t coming.
-Or maybe he’s with that other woman.
-I know.
-He looks at me that way. He looks through me.
-As if I didn’t exist. He doesn’t see me. He doesn’t want me.
-Yes. He doesn’t want me. He hasn’t touched me since…
-Since he met…that other. He doesn’t love me anymore.
-No. I see it every time I look at him. He wishes me to be that other one. But I’m not.
-I’m just me and it is me he doesn’t love anymore.
-No, he isn’t here. Ever.
-His mind isn’t here, his body stays here, but his thoughts are elsewhere. He’s already gone.
-I can’t. I disgust him. He doesn’t even want to touch me.
-You’re not real.
12 comments:
If he isn't real, he must be virtual.
Maybe, HPY, who knows what's for real?
I think I know what's real and what isn't.
Remf, for a long time!
Yes, I'd like to think you do.
She still knows what's real. Or does she...? I like the dialog and the picture is so dark and beautiful. Full of angst.
I think she still knows what's for real, but maybe not for a long time, Elegia.
Very unsettling--glad to see it tagged as "fiction." :-)
Sometimes our alter ego is the one that provides us with the most revealing epiphanies.
Well. I considered it to be wise to label this as fiction, Kenneth:))
Yes, sometimes it's wise to talk with oneself.
As Elegia has already said, I also like the dialog and dark visual very much.
Thanks, Mick:)
I'm with kennethsf on this being a bit unsettling. Hope this wasn't derived from a real life experience...
a life uncommon, labelled as fiction, luckily...and fiction it is.
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