A Sad Girl's Memorial

This is Girl speaking. This is my attempt at a more modern approach. That is all! On the second day, Sofia is opening the coffee shop while scrolling through all the things she missed out on last night. The pub. The cocktails. The music. The girls went without her, just did not think of inviting her along since they knew she would be working the next morning and all. Genuinely sorry for it, though! Yeah, right… Just like that other times when they thought she was allergic to seafood so noooo it never crossed their mind that she would want vegetarian sushi or when she just really did not seem that interested in reading so why would she join a book club or when they really did try to catch her a spare ticket to see her favorite band on her birthday.  “Next time!” they would say. There would always be a next time. Sofia’s eyes are locked on the green-eyed guy, smiling a bit too wide beside her not-so-single-friend, or acquaintance, whatever you wanna call it. And of course, her hair...

This is girl speaking. This jumbled piece of text, is a result of a promise once made. It is the only thing I have worked on today. Finally, it is completed. I am no longer in any debt.  Now, I should have something to eat.  "A woman and a man, sheltering in a cabin once lived in, far up the mountain, at the fingertip of the world. They have kept each other company for quite some time now, but rarely utter a word to each other. After all, speaking is unheard of in a place which has turned to silence. And it is not like they had much choice but to travel upwards in fellowship. Naturally neither one of them wanted to go alone. And… everyone else was… Ever since the sky split and the stars started falling. Their family pictures were the first to turn to ashes. They both used to have someone to hold onto, dragged hands of corpses with them, desperately latching on to parts they had torn apart. Their hearts so full that they had very little left for one another. Still, despite all ...

This is Girl speaking. I had to get my feelings out somewhere, no matter how tired I might be of thinking, so I wrote this text. It has not been proofread and it is past midnight, so please do not come for me if it is lacking in quality. Sometimes having something to say is enough and more important than how it is said. And some things are so brutal that you cannot put them eloquently.  "Lately the girl has been laying in a bed which no longer feels like her own. It hasn’t for some time now. Not since she moved out and embarked on a journey, going from slurping a sweetened milkshake colored in pastel to sipping a vodka cranberry deprived of its fruit. Embracing womanhood, still stained by girlhood, painted fingers unwashed.  Little did she know that she would long to be a child again, to have a bed be hers and hers only. Tucked in, head resting on a tower of plushed friends, and choosing whether she felt like wearing a pajama, a t-shirt or nothing at all. She would be just as ...