She’s so different from the girl two weeks ago, the girl two hours ago. She’s limp and lifeless, a stranger to her usually exuberant, bouncing, enigmatic and addictive self. Her strut is replaced by slumped shoulders. Hey eyes dulled in defeat. This is a woman chewed up and spit out by the thrills of love. Or whatever it is we college students cling to- hormones, companionship, a desire for stability?
Two weeks ago she couldn’t contain her excitement. His name permanently settled itself on the tip of her tongue, causing her to sway in place and flush in happiness. She showered him with compliments- his touch affectionate, his demeanor kind, his mind abundant with intriguing thoughts. Her words did him favors that his looks or personality could never have achieved.
Two hours ago, she was still determined to win him back. But you can’t help but wonder if she ever had him. The physical distance between them is still incomparable to the coldness of his shoulder, squared staunchly away from her. He pays particular attention to not paying her any attention. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s waging emotional warfare on a very vulnerable heart. I think he realizes it.
There is only so much a girl can take and two hours later, no amount of alcohol or dancing will bring her happiness. The pleas of her friends fall on deaf ears- she’s not listening to them, her mind is replaying the words he didn’t say over and over again. She’s young, she’s fairly tipsy, and she’s caught between the vulnerability of Juliet and the cynicism of adulthood.
Her whole world, seen through rose-colored glasses yesterday, is a cold and unforgiving place today.
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