@herotrope asked: things you didn’t say at all
SHE NEVER UNDERSTOOD WHAT THEY MEANT BY HER INSIDE VOICE. her teachers would raise their hands in the air, trying to take control of a room full of kindergarteners, asking for ‘inside voices’. that always confused her. you see, she had been taught that her voice was something to be held onto, locked inside her lungs until it was safe enough to crack herself open to relieve some of the pressure. she had yet to find somewhere to do that. she learned that good girls didnt raise their voice, they didnt scream or shout. they didnt talk back. so she learned to carve her smiles out of memories, like taking scissors to a photograph. she would borrow their brightness to distract the people around her—it usually worked. even adults liked shiny things. when her voice became too much to carry on her own, when it tried to claw its way out of her throat, her mother would say pretty girls didnt cry. it ruined their make up. her home was a museum. her life a piece of art to be curated and perfected. everything had a place, everything had a purpose, every schedule, every product, every calorie until she could count each rib like a brush stroke. beauty was pain and so was love, if she wanted one than she had to have the other. she learned how to paint brush herself into her surroundings, to chameleon herself at lunch tables and parties. she did it so often, she doubted she could recognize a photo of her own skin. “ you know this isnt the first time we’ve, um, hung out.” “ no? ” “ you dont remember? ” “ im sorry ” she remembered a boy with a buzz cut and sneakers, his eyes brighter than the stage lights. he had a hundred watt smile and hands that couldnt keep still even with his guitar resting inside them. they were behind the curtain, waiting for their turn to perform. her and the boy wanted to watch the other acts so they tucked into a dark pocket off to the side of the auditorium stage. he wasnt very quiet but she didnt mind. he made her laugh, alternating between whispering and remembering that it was not his turn in the spotlight just yet. she remembered their eyes meeting and for a single moment, tucked into that dark corner, surrounded by everyone and no one—she felt like he was looking at her. for the first time in years, someone actually saw her. “. . . i was with my band.. ” “ corroded coffin! oh my god of course, with a name like that how could i forget! ” “ i dont know, youre a freak.” “ no you just.. ” the words caught in her throat, pulled back down into the box where she kept the voice that had been bruised and battered. she tried again, her lip opening, brow furrowed yet nothing came out. you see, courage is not a chameleons best attribute and some days, it wasnt hers either. —you didnt look at me the same. “ —you looked so... ” “ different? ” happy.
