She sits in her room. The white paint hurts her eyes, the colourful posters are killing her slowly. This is not hers she thinks. If it truly was her room it would be as black as her heart. The walls naked of anything, like her soul. Its temperature wouldn’t be lukewarm, it would be ice cold, it would be giving the artic a run for its money.

She walks, she sits, she walks again. “Aaargh!” An animal like growl escapes from within her. She punches the wall in pure frustration. A pain soars through her fist, through her nerves, to her brain for it to comprehend. The pain is comforting, the pain means she still feels. She lies down on her bed, slowly, but still it creaks. It dares to complain, at least it can complain. She is staring at her ceiling now, the cracks and damps were a familiar sight to her before, a comforting friend of things that stayed the same and never changed. If she closed her eyes she could point out to you where they were all located and how big each crack and damp was. But today its different, her eyes are open, but they are not seeing anything. She is far within herself thinking about thoughts she did not want to think about. But they engulf her like a flame, leaping up, hurting her, swallowing her in their never ending pit of a mouth. The past isn’t worth thinking about she keeps telling herself, but it doesn’t work. She promised herself a long time ago she would never cry, no matter what!

She has succeeded so far?

She looks at the window, the curtains are drawn shut so all she sees is its red glow. But she can still hear the voices beyond it, the happy voices. How she wishes she could be one of them, instead of her. A lonely girl in her lonely bedroom. Her stomach rumbles, she hasn’t eaten anything for the past two days and its showing its defiance she couldn’t careless. She lost her appetite. She looks around her room once again, the desk cluttered as usual, that’s the only thing there. At least most people have a wardrobe, but not her, the unfortunate child.

She spots a picture on it. It haunts her. Staring back at her are two girls with their arms around each other. She looks at it longingly, how she wishes she could be eternally stuck in that moment of pure bliss. But no amount of wishing will take her back in time, its against physics apparently. The two girls are smiling ecstatically, one is wearing a white summer dress, it is a short one and her long marvellous legs can be seen. She looks down at her own all black attire. Black baggy trousers and black baggy shirt. No flesh on show, for there’s no one to show it to anymore. She shuts her eyes and clasps her hands around them. Trying, but not succeeding in blocking out the thoughts of the past. The other girl is wearing a yellow T-shirt with a red eagle drawn on it. Its wings spanning wide over her chest, showing its magnificent strength for all to look at in envy. The girl is also wearing a pair of figure hugging jeans, showing of her womanly curves, just like her friend. She is looking at the picture again. Her hands clasped together on her lap. Clasp, unclasp, clasp, unclasp. Her routine becoming an addiction. The girls are in a park it seems, children playing happily behind them. it’s a hot summer day and the sun is shining down on them furiously. She can remember like it was just an hour ago, still smell the freshly cut grass, the fresh smell of the summer bloom, still hear the ice cream man call. She walks over to the desk in three powerful strides she’s there. She topples everything over in rage and walks back to her bed. She sits on it again and reaches for something underneath it. She comes back with a CD p_layer_. She puts it on her lap and turns on the radio.

“This song is dedicated to the two love birds, hope you have a wonderful day. It sure is a hot one…” She was about to turn it off, about to look for something more suiting to her mood, but then she heard the first few notes of the song. She wasn’t quick enough. She started the clasping routine again, the addiction became a comfort at a moment of need.

“I sit out in the crowd
And close my eyes
Dream you're mine
But you don't know
You don't even know that I am there”

She looks at the ceiling, looking for an answer, looking for a cure. But unfortunately they don’t tend to come down in that way, at least not when u need them.

“I pray you'll look my way
And hold me to your heart someday
I long to be the one that you caress with tenderness”

Her lips are being bitten now, almost to a point of bleeding. She promised that she would never cry. Never! She looks around again. She sees the mess on the floor, and on top of it the two girls are still smiling.

“I wish that I was in your arms
Like that Spanish guitar
And you would play me through the night
'Till the dawn”

A single tear is rolling down her cheek.

“Te sientas entre la gente” [You feel between people]
Ever so slowly, ever so carefully.

“Cierras tu ojos” [You close your eyes]
Saying more than words could ever describe.

“Y suenas que soy tuyo” [And you sound that I am yours]

It shines on its decent, like a diamond, till it reaches the ground.

“Pero yo no siquiera se que estas ahi” [But I not at least that these ahi]

And gets swallowed up like all things in the past.

“Me gustaria tenerte entre mis brazos amor” [Gustaria me tenerte between my arms love]

Only to be remembered by one person’s mind.

“I wish you'd hold me in your arms
Like that Spanish guitar
All night long, all night long
I'd be your song…”

She failed. She let go. She gave up the mirage.