The Soundtrack To Her Teenaged Days

The Soundtrack To Her Teenaged Days

There’s a certain brand of nostalgia that comes from rediscovering music from one’s teenaged years.

Cat sighed as she scrolled through the music on her old iPod from when she was in high school, trying to find something of interest. It was mostly stuff she still listened to fifteen years after she had abandoned the little device, which somehow had survived being in closed drawer for so long. Sure, she had the shuffle playlist on, but nothing she had forgotten about.
Then that one song started to play. 

There’s always that one song. The one that causes butterflies to rise in your chest and your heart to feel like it weighs nothing at all. It sends shivers down your spine and makes you want to do all the things you had always wanted to do. The one that reminds you of your hopes, your dreams, and everything you’ve ever wanted to be.

Cat had a song like that.

She listened to the melody, heart beginning to thump as the sweet, soft voice of the female lead began to serenade her soul. Memories of that one girl flashed across Cat’s mind.

There was always that one girl. Everyone had one. At least, that’s what Cat had been led to believe. No, not all women have that one girl. She learned that the hard way. All the women she knew had that one guy, but never that one girl. She almost felt bad for them.

Cat’s mind wandered to all the times she had nearly clicked “looking for: Women” and all the times she slowed down as she passed by the gay bar, slowed down her scrolling when there was an ad for an LGBT meetup on Facebook, and all the times she stifled everything she had always wanted to say and hear and do and feel and believe and–

The song was over. Cat sat straight up on her bed, running her hands through her hair as the next song began to play. It meant nothing. She was nothing. Her feelings for her husband were nothing. She had known that since before he proposed. Even then, her thoughts wandered to the girl who made her latte every morning at Starbucks. Her thoughts still wander. 

Maybe it was time to stop denying it, and just get the divorce already.

Chai Tea Latte

Chai Tea Latte

Every morning, suddenly, I am awake. My hair falls in my face as I sluggishly rise from my overly pillowed bed, the warmth leaking out from my nest as soon as my feet hit the cool wooden floor. My chest feels heavy and my eyes burn from sleep. Sometimes I have an alarm to turn off, and other days I’ve woken up on my own.

Some days, I brush my teeth and comb out my hair, styling it in the same fashion as any work day. Loose around my shoulders with a plaid or solid colored headband. I apply a brown, matte lipstick and apply just enough eye makeup to hide the bags under my eyes and make it seem as if I had a good night’s rest. My cardigans always matched my headband and my skirts always had biking shorts underneath. My socks were always white, or if I was feeling daring that day, patterned with some kind of cute animal. I have an image to keep, as any accountant would.

Other days I let my body flow freely, wearing just a loose tanktop and a pair of basketball shorts around my apartment. My tattoos are exposed and my hair goes wild and unbrushed for the sake of freedom. I might be drunk by noon, and I might stay sober until the sun goes down. If it’s a special occasion, I might even order in takeout and get high until I feel sideways and don’t know which way is up.

Between my days, there’s one thing that is always consistent. The shop around the corner from my apartment complex always calls to me at the same time each day. Thirty minutes before the coffee shop closes, I stop in, either in my perfect work attire or my messy loungewear, and I see her smile and wave to me, her smile perfect and her eyes crinkling just so.

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Always returning

Always returning

Some people have an allure to them, an absolute chemical and social attraction that draws in even the most strong willed of minds. He had a draw like that, and each time he came back to me, my life was ruined.

We dated for two years. He taught me to play chess and I showed him all the best spots to hang out. He read philosophy notes to me over the phone while I dozed off. I drew him pictures and left cute notes in his hoodie pockets while he saved up his allowances to take me to see plays and fairs. I was so in love, and he was so in love.

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#Katsparty

#Katsparty

Inspired by a writing prompt on Reddit.


It’s my birthday again.

My roommate, Joey, had practically assaulted me in order to put a stupid cardboard party hat on my head. I stood in front of the mirror, staring at it. The hat stuck out like a goddamn sore thumb compared to the rest of my look. My clothes are black, black, and you guessed it, black. I leaned in, examining my face in the mirror. I supposed it was about time to change my lip piercing to something less subtle. The stud always sort of got boring after a while, but for some reason, I always put that one in. Sighing, I figured it didn’t matter. I had work to do today. It was the only way that I couldĀ earn more time.

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