When Will I See Her Again Acapella

Tikkho Maciel

When you run into her, it won't be like annihilation yous imagined. Everything will come rushing back to yous so fast that information technology takes your jiff abroad. The dye in her hair has washed out, the mousy dark-brown finally peeking all the way through. You e'er liked the original colour. She hated it, saying it was also normal, also ordinary. Too standard. She never wanted the color to fade. Information technology was the just riveting matter in her life, she told you lot, drunk on wine and the thought of never leaving that place.

She always said, "I just want to live I only want to live and not await dorsum." You would laugh and milk shake your head, thinking that she was unlike anything you'd e'er seen. The mode she'd dance around the room for hours, laughing and spinning until she saw stars.

She didn't desire to feel pre-packaged. An imaginary muzzle was already starting to make her experience claustrophobic even though she was every bit free as a bird. It didn't seem that way to her. Every glance on the street, every adventitious brush of the shoulder, every pair of eyes she would lock onto felt similar judgment for a criminal offense she didn't commit. She didn't ask to feel this way.

She was unknowingly beautiful, but the spark was fleeting. There wasn't plenty electricity in the world to jolt it dorsum to life. Hesitation was always on the tip of her natural language, an unspoken word she didn't dare to speak. You weren't meant to final beyond the walls she put up. She was careful…she had reason to exist. Someone else was some other gamble and she was afraid to take that chance. Another prey at her expense was too much to handle.

You wish yous had more pictures, more than physical reminders, more of anything at all. She loved carrying a camera around, capturing the laughs of her all-time friends with one click of a push, but turning away when someone did the aforementioned to her. Insecurity crept its way into everything she did. You wonder who she'due south with when the day fades into evening, who keeps her safe when the nightmares commencement, who she calls dwelling house. You were the stones and the foundation of her perfect house just it began to crumble. She'due south been taught to deconstruct, to carefully take each brick out using the shaky fingers you used to hold tight so the trembling would stop.

She still trembles. The anxiety has gotten bad and there are nights when she can't breathe and everything goes nighttime and the floor is the comfiest place in the globe. But he's there to grab her delicate fingers and lace them through his, leaning against the kitchen chiffonier and letting the words bladder in the 2am air. "I've got you." He's there and you're not. She'south different, but in a adept mode. As skillful equally she tin can be. She doesn't skip meals anymore. She doesn't pretend that a drinking glass of cheap vino is all she needs for dinner. She doesn't self-destruct every nighttime and wonder why the ground around her is singed.

That was then, and this is now. Her peel is yet paper and her bones are nonetheless breakable but she'south stronger. Fiercer. You watched her collapse over and over and y'all blamed yourself. But you didn't cause the pain and the acrimony and the loneliness, yous only stumbled in without knowing exactly what was going on in her chaotic listen. It was a case of the wrong place at the wrong time. Timing's a bitch, and the hourglass ran out earlier yous could make sense of what this was.

Your favorite books remain untouched on her shelf. The folded corners, the scribbled notes, the playful whispers held within each page only bring tears to her eyes. They glisten as they slide downwardly her cheeks but he's there to wipe them away and agree her face up in his hands. He knows. He knows all about you, your retention like a ghost that never seems to move on from this haunted firm. But he'south patient. He waits for the wind to terminate howling in through the shattered windows and the lights to stop flickering, until all is calm again.

The layers of dust on the shoes you left by the door only remind her of time passing, passing, passing and she doesn't want to recollect nearly that. Even the clock ticking is similar a drum chirapsia loud in her ears. She's sensitive. Cautious. She's simply human, but sometimes she feels fifty-fifty less than that.

Accept all of the memories you had colorfully painted in your mind and let them rinse clean.

The brilliant colors, explosion of pigments beyond your mind's eye, are the mistaken past. Let it exist. Everything fades, fifty-fifty the brightest of hues. Permit time to slowly launder abroad each color until information technology's cipher only black and white, fleeting moments of what you hoped could've lasted forever. Existent life isn't like the movies. It's messy. Because when y'all run across her, information technology won't be anything like you imagined. Information technology'll found a seed of sadness in your eye and you'll want to reach out for nourishment, just like quondam times. But things take inverse. She's changed. And nothing's like it used to be.

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Source: https://thoughtcatalog.com/stefanie-dyga/2016/12/when-you-see-her-again/

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