I remember drunken nights, lying on that cold wood varnished floor, tracing the creases of the patterned planked platform. The nights cool air billowing through my window with the gentle hum of the double panel fan in the back. Me studying the ridges of my empty glass bottle in the warm glow of the lamp. I would skim my hand against the cool walls of my room. Was my soul mate on the other side? Did his palm rest in the direction of mine, only separated by time and space? I wish I could have pulled you right through. I'd give anything to have you. I felt empty, but not alone.
You were out there, and I was sure of that as I spun myself dizzy in circles. And laughed out a gentle sound of pleasure, finally collapsing on my quilted bed that shook like a wave with the force of my fall. The ceiling circling above me illuminated with the glow in the dark stickers my sister and I had stuck to it when we were eight and ten. Leaping about on my twin bed and springing forth to press each one to that popcorn ceiling. Now that constellation of stars stares back at me, still twinkling with the magic of a child's dream.
A single tear would befall my cheek and I can't tell if it is from sadness or happiness. A memory so lovely, yet so far gone. I lay there trying to decipher the feeling till I can't feel at all. All I feel is numb. I want organic bliss though, so I drink some more and fake a waltz with my future prince charming. I bow but then I courtesy. I lay again on my rug this time, looking closely at the floral pattern. Did I fall? I don't even remember. I'm sleepy. My skin feels tingly. I look at the wall once more and reach for it again. Is my soul mate on the other side, reaching his fingertips towards mine? I don't know you, but I vow to love you. The one who sees me on these nights alone.
I dream of the person you will be, my charismatic younger self wrote up a list of all the traits you will posses. But I'm willing to compromise as long as you love me. Me. I pull myself up by the knob of the door. Looking over myself in the mirror. What is framed is the real me, the one you shall see, the one who is misunderstood. Yes. You will find me. I see my reflection's expression change. She looks doubtful. She is crying. I press my hand to the glass. I'm here, but she can't see me. And now we both cry as we seep to the floor.
I wake up, head against my dresser, sitting on my rug. I look at that girl in the mirror and realize that she's no one's princess. I steady myself to that truth, turn off my light and expire into the night. As I do so, I toss and turn once more, and open my eyes to the stars of a child's dream. Hope stings my soul so I reach my hand to the cold wall. And you, whoever you are, do the same.