I woke up the in the same manner that I had been waking for a while now: tears were streaming down my face. I told myself that it was just a dream, but as I got up and looked in the mirror, black make-up from the day before was smeared under my eyes and leaking down my face as the tears freely slid down my blotchy cheeks. I took a deep breath and went to the bathroom.
The hot water sprayed out of the little showerhead that was in my own personal bathroom and slowly relaxed my tense muscles. Without realizing it, I thought about him and the tears started again. I took a few minutes to calm myself, and then continued my shower. With a towel wrapped around myself, I made my way into my room. A few steps in I happened to glance into the mirror.
I looked my reflection over and sighed. I used to be pretty, but when my parents decided that they randomly wanted to move, I changed. When we moved, my parents had moved me away from the one. The only one who could make my heart beat faster and slower at the same time. The one I was in love with. They moved me away from him, so I decided that as long as I wasn’t happy they weren’t going to be either. I completely changed the way that I looked. I changed the way I acted. I used to be pretty, beautiful even; but I had to do something to rebel.
I switched my light shadow for smoky eyes and black liner. I traded my lip-gloss for charcoal black lipstick. I no longer wore designer jeans and shirts, but rather short skirts and fishnet tights completed with tight black shirts. My parents were worried about me, and I knew that. They tried sending me to a counselor, but that ended when I refused to talk. I made sure I was a social outcast; I didn’t want to fit in somewhere that he wasn’t. While I was still under the legal adult age, I was stuck in my own personal prison.
I let myself think about him again. The radiant smile I earned every time we saw each other, the security of his arms, and the beat of his heart harmonizing with his deep even breaths. I thought about how easy it was before. I had it all. I didn’t have many friends, but as long as I had him I had everything.
Clearing my head I threw on some clothes, and smeared black make-up across my face; another day in a place that could never be home. I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs. My mom glared at my outfit choice but decided better of arguing again. I swallowed some breakfast and left for school. He wouldn’t be there, but I would be thinking about him every day until the day we meet again. The day that we could be together forever.