Skipping Puddles

ladyleven

,United States

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Text

"NO!"

I screamed after the silver car. The rain wasn’t bothering me anymore; the only pain I had now was this empty, barely-there thud, seeming to slowly fade…

"NO!"

Buzzzzzz. Buzzzzzz. Buzzzzzz.

The alarm on my phone told me that it was time to wake up. I blindly grabbed for it on my dresser and flipped it open then shut. I pulled a hoodie over my tanktop and tied on my tennis shoes. I shoved a granola bar into my pocket and lazily walked out the door.

6:30 is too early on a Saturday morning.

Why do I do this? I put my headphones in my ears and stretched my legs on the front steps. I saw it again—that scar. That’s why I do this. This is what I will never repeat again. I started at a steady jog. The puddles in the street reflected the pale sunrise, but that picture quickly faded underneath the cold blanket of promising clouds. All the fallen leaves lay soggy and plastered to the pavement. No colors to catch my eye. This dull life is fading into a steady rhythm… Isn’t this what I had feared most? Isn’t this what I tried to run from? Why am I running around in it? I was born, raised, and now currently a resident of Milford, Pennsylvania. The population is 1,292. Well, 1,291 as far as I’m concerned. Actually, as far as I’m concerned, the population could just consist of me. Since he left no one else matters. The streets were dead, or so I thought. Then I saw headlights turning onto my street. I jogged for about thirty more seconds until the car splashed through a puddle, effectively soaking me through my sweatshirt, pants, and socks. Just my luck! Is this my punishment? Karma coming around to bite me? I stopped and sat on the curb. I set my feet into the puddle and let my shoes soak up as much as they could. On some whim, or maybe it wasn’t a whim, maybe a thought of someone’s, other than my own… Looking back on this, I do not know what to think of it. The thought that I will forever to refuse to admit as my own sends shivers down my spine… I got up from the curb and ran to the park. In the park the ground dipped by the old baseball field. The puddle had to have been at least six inches deep. My breath had become short, and my heartbeat picked up pace; more than the extent of my jogging’s symptoms.

Why does this puddle look so inviting?

The ocean is seemingly never-ending, yet we all know, right?

That it ends; eventually you end up on land again…

But I love to pretend.

ends

I love to lie and cheat myself into believing the impossible.

This is normal right?

Is this healthy?

Am I healthy?

Am I stable?

stable

lie

cheat

impossible

normal

He said he loved me. He said he loved me and promised me *forever*. He left me and came back. He said my world was broken. He said he was sick of seeing me broken and torn. He said he tried to help and couldn’t. He said his leaving would fix me. He said he’d miss me. He said he’d come back… He lied. But, he couldn’t have! I know he loved me. Didn’t he? I read the letters time and time again. The truth poured out with each pen stroke…

I sat in the puddle. I stretched out my legs in front of me and laid down on my back. My hair and body were soaked. The water felt cool and the air temperature did nothing to help. Soon I started to shiver. I turned onto my stomach and propped my head up. I stared into the water at the grass dancing beneath. The grass danced, content to see ripples distorting my reflection, which was framed with the grey sky.