-Ellie-
I am an ugly person.
I do ugly things.
I think ugly thoughts.
You will hate me.
You will detest the choices that I have made.
You won’t understand me at all.
You may feel some sympathy. A shred of sadness for the woman I’ve become. It’s hard not to feel bad for the person who has fallen so far.
But youwilllove him.
It’s hard not to.
He is everything that I’m not.
He is good. He is kind. He cares for others deeply and absolutely.
He is talented. He is shy. He is smart in ways I can only dream of.
He loves with all of his heart.
He believes when I refute. He succeeds when I fail. He blooms when I shrivel up and die.
Why does a man like this want a woman like me?
It’s blasphemous. Improbable. Completely wrong.
But he does.
He sees the beauty where others don’t. He hears love when others only hear pain. He gives me the strength to become the person I’ve been terrified to be.
You will hate me.
You will love him.
Ilove him.
He has changed my world.
-Ellie-
I handed the yellow slip of paper to the bored looking girl behind the counter. “Box number 113,” I said impatiently. The girl didn’t bother to make eye contact as she took the slip from me and turned her back after closing her mouth on a yawn.
She came back a minute later with a small brown box and handed it to me. I took it without a thank you. Manners weren’t my thing. Squeezing my package in my hands I hurried out of the post office. I felt a thrill of excitement as I crossed the street and let myself into my tiny ground floor apartment.
The sad state of neglect I lived in didn’t register. It never did. The stale air smelled sour but it didn’t bother me. The giant hole in the ceiling where the plaster was missing didn’t matter. I quickly went into my bedroom and shut the door. I made my way to my dresser and laid the box down.
With eager fingers I ripped it open, pulling out tissue paper and dropping it on the floor. My hands practically shook as I reached inside and pulled the small, perfectly detailed replica of the Taj Mahal. I held it in my palm and gently touched it, amazed and totally in awe of the craftsmanship that went into creating such a perfect piece of art.
Carefully I placed the figurine in its place amongst the others of similar size and quality. I admired my new edition, sat there beside the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben. There was the Sphinx and the Sydney Opera House. The Kremlin and Christ the Redeemer. They were beautiful and my one allowed sentimental indulgence.
Now that I had added the new purchase to my collection, I swiftly left my room and shut the door. Closing my excitement and momentary feelings of joy inside. Locked away where they belonged.
