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Mallorie Cheves

United States

I am a junior in high school and an aspiring writer. I love video games, reading, cooking (and eating) , volunteering, playing the guitar, and of course writing! That's all there is to it, really cx

Message from Writer

I would like to receive positive feedback, however constructive criticism, such as redundancy or bad grammar would also be appreciated. I'm very grateful for any reviews, favorites, or follows that I receive, so thank you so much for all of the support, it means a lot! Feel free to comment on anything that stands out to you as well, thanks c:

I Want To Be Free

July 14, 2016

Michael,

You and I both know that I'm not a neat freak, but I found the energy to clean our house today, and I found her lipstick in the bathroom. "Dubonnet", it says. You always told me how red lipstick made me look old, so I know this doesn't belong to me. I know red lips bring out the acne scars you swore you could never see, and I know it ages me at least twenty years, so why would I own lipstick that makes me look ugly in YOUR eyes? While I'm writing this with my left hand and holding "Dubonnet" in my right, I wonder what you tell her when she puts this on. Do you mention how the deep crimson pigment brings out her glistening eyes? Do you compliment her smile and tell her how it "makes the twinkling stars envious"? Of course you do, I'm sure you have those lines memorized like the back of your hand. 

How long do you think this lipstick has been here? Two months ago when I first caught you two together in our house, one month ago when I saw her kiss you on our back doorstep, two weeks ago when I found her bra in your closet, or last week when I caught you two in our bed? I also noticed that you flipped my picture over, and I wonder if you chose to do that so you wouldn't have to look me in my brown eyes and swear you weren't holding her in your arms.

I went through your phone again. I know you hate it when I do that, but the moment I saw her name illuminate across your screen I couldn't stop myself. You're right, Michael, she is absolutely stunning. I only caught but a quick glance at her when she darted out of our room with the sheets covering her body, but the pictures that she sends you are beautiful. When I see the messages between you and her - how much you miss her, or how you'll always love her even if you and I are together - I no longer feel angry. I feel envious, and I feel envious because you have never missed me and you never will. You never sent me messages when I was out of town saying how you wish you could hold me again. You never tell me that you will do whatever it takes to be with me, and you definitely never brag to your friends that I'm the girl you would never want to let go of. 

Yet despite your decision to cut the bond between us with the same knife you used to stab me in the back, you will never let me go. I won't ever forget our first date to your family's cookout, or when you embraced me and asked me to be yours. I won't forget the first time I told you "I love you" and when you did the same. But I won't forget the realization I had today, when it finally occurred to me that I don't need you. You will never let me go because our memories will never leave me, and it'll take more than a glass of wine and good friends to get over you. It'll take time to recover from what you've done to me - what you've done to us. No matter how desperately I want to be free, I signed over my freedom to you the moment I told you I loved you.

I saw Dubonnet everywhere that night. I saw Dubonnet on her lips and on your chest. I saw Dubonnet on her nails. I saw Dubonnet in her cheeks when her and I made eye-contact. I felt Dubonnet in my body when it took all of the self control in me not to scream, and I bit my lip so hard from resisting that urge, that Dubonnet dripped from the corners of my mouth. 

I can no longer tolerate living here with you. I refuse to pretend that nothing happened between you and Kourtney. I would hate to be a burden and get in the way of "true" love. I only have one thing I ask of you: Do not look for me. I do not want to get a message from you telling me how much you miss what we used to be. I do not want hear your voice over the phone late at night while she pretends to be asleep in your bed. I do not want to sit beside you and witness you turn over her picture on your end table, so you don't have to be riddled with guilt every time you look into her hazel eyes. Most importantly, I don't ever want you to make her feel how I feel right now. You won't need to check up on me; I'll be fine without you eventually. Please take good care of her. 

Marcie


 

 

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