“Maybe the wolf is in love with the moon,
and each month it cries for a love it will never touch.”
The first time it had happened it was real. She felt dead for a minute like she was lost into oblivion – as she would put it. Aware of the heads that turned for her the masses that rescued her. She never felt more loved, more needed, more cared for than she is now.
He was there by her side, frightened to as what happened to her. She loves it. She loves the attention she’s getting especially from him – the center of her universe. The person she constantly blogs about, writes him as if he is her own fictional character. Every book she had read she absorbs like a black cloth infront of the sun. She makes her books into her own reality and he – her found love – her star crossed lover, her own Augustus Waters.
Depressed everyday that she is. Lost in the sun without him. “Our love is fatal.” She would say, like romeo and juliet. Literature is engraved in her bones. She’s a writer, a wonderful one. Everything she writes, all of a wonderful piece, but all for him. She will not be able to live without him, without seeing him everyday even without knowing his heart is beating at just in the very local vicinity. Her world starts and ends with him.
He is gawky and passive. Full of coys, a paradox to her. Maybe opposites really do attract but the two of them isn’t enough for justification. No one knows if he really does lover her. If he wants her as much as she wants him. He is in chains, like he just settled for this kind of love. He looks like as if he has no choice and that she is more than an option rather than a choice at all. Which is even worse. She knows about this but a tiny hope from her heart brings her aback from reailty. “He’ll change.” but deep within her she knows that he will not; that he will remain as passive as he is now.
It happened constantly now. Everyone is concerned for her, for her health. She is beside him gasping for every oxygen around, stiffling as if she’s a corpse but he does nothing for her. He relies for her group of friends. And there are her friends all concerned for her health. She does nothing to be in good health, like she wanted it to stay like this. She wanted more and more attention. She got the more from everyone but it is not enough if it’s not coming from him.
Everyday she gasps for air, everyday she suddenly faints. “It’s my asthma acting up.” But she faints gracefully as if making sure she won’t hit or hurt herself, her jaws does not lock up, her head just falls and by that she calls it fainting. Everyday she falls, everyday someone is there for her. Days go on like this for her but for everyday the attention she’s getting is less than before.
It’s funny because when she “faints” she doesn’t fall so hard on the floor. She falls sitting down. Her skin is still warm in which it should be cold as if dead. When people would tell her to call her parents it is as if nothing had happened because she will automatically jolt up. People pity her now. Pity for her self loathing that she seeks for attention from everyone because the person she made center of her universe only gives her his stars when all she wanted is his moon.
No one succumbs to her pathetic cries now. Even she can’t deceive her knight in shining armor because he had never believed in her. Everyone knew her game. Next time she calls on as if she’s the damsel in distress, no one would come up to her. She had finally relived a story in her own life, for everyone else she is
The girl who cried wolf.