purple hair

real life is nothing like the movies in which being different is what gets you loved;
and it's not to say that real life is harsh or cruel, because really it's mostly just soft and quiet in the moments it reminds you you're alone.

i have an image in my head:
of a boy and a girl and a shoddy little apartment and a feeling that is suddenly, violently overwhelming - and it's not even the kind of abrupt fear that causes anger and screaming, just the kind that makes it so you can't see straight when you tell someone to leave,
the kind that makes it so you can't remember whose video games are whose when you're trying to toss their shit into a black plastic bag,
the kind that makes you think you can convince yourself you don't love them anymore
if you can only convince them first.

in my head,
the boy is kicking the girl out because he's afraid and the girl doesn't cry like they do in the movies,
she just nods slowly and doesn't bother to take the plastic bag when the boy thrusts it out at her.
the boy is breathing hard and the girl closes the door quietly behind her.

what if it only took five minutes before he realized he was wrong?
wouldn't that be nice?

and he scrambles for his keys and rushes out into the hall and then he's falling;
tripping over the limbs of the girl who is splayed out on the musty old carpet in the hallway like a star and laughing only a little bit when the boy's wide eyes fall to her in inquiry.

"you drove me here," she might say, and he'll nod and feel a little silly and then lean in and kiss her on the floor and there won't be a big redemption speech because real life is much simpler and more complicated than the movies and maybe actions speak louder than words but
mostly i think that in real life the quiet is just more effective.

later the boy will realize he scraped his knee when he fell and he'll shrug and dig for polysporin in the bathroom drawer while the girl leans on the doorjamb, says,

"sorry."

and he'll look up, stricken, and say,

"no."

i have an image in my head:
things i want but refuse to allow myself because i am so fucking painfully afraid.

but in real life maybe lying prostrate on the floor outside the apartment of someone who's trying to cut your out of their life is not a good way to go about being loved.

in the quiet moments,
you realize you're alone.

in my head,
that girl is never me.