It’s a beautiful New Years Eve Party. You know the type- in a big flat facing NYC, and we all wear big, beautiful shimmering dresses, just like you see in the movies.
I came by myself, perhaps because I have no one to bring, or perhaps because he’s home sick, or he’s away. I had no clue you were invited, much less at the party with your perfect new boyfriend.
He’s rich, just like you wanted, and loud and seemingly handsome, but is so far up his own ass he hardly notices anything around him. You love him, at least that’s what you say. And hell, you look perfect. Hair perfectly curled, a beautiful blue dress on your always thin figure.
I walk in, and you’re all I see. You truly look like a movie, and I more closer to hear your tinkling laugh again, and it sounds like a song, calling me back to years past.
I try to avoid you, tired and scared of remembering what we used to be. It had been such a quick and painful end, and still leaves me wondering if you even care.
As midnight approaches, I move myself to the dark and musty library, tracing the many novels and thinking back on my many years, remembering the good and the bad, and looking to the many more yet to come.
The countdown begins, and I shudder. My golden dress shimmers in the moonlight streaming in, and I run my hands through my thick locks, whispering 3, 2, 1.
A new year.
I finally rejoin the crowds, scanning them for you, but you’ve vanished. I sigh, grabbing my jacket as I dream of home, and all the brave adventures I’d jot down, hoping to finish them within 365 days.
The hallway to leave is long but I start the trek with confidence, only stopping when I catch your big blue eyes, surprise swimming in the irises.
I felt the tear hit my cheek, begging, “Can I have a moment, before I go?”
You don’t reply, your instinctual fear making you burrow within yourself, but I knew you better than you hoped, and allowed myself to continue.
“I’ve been by myself all night long. I was just hoping you were someone I used to know,” Your eyes shimmered, and your tears spilled over, “You look like a movie.”
“You moved overseas,” You accused me, as though I hadn’t spoken of those dreams before we had parted ways, “That’s what you’d said, before the call.”
I nodded, a brief smile tinging my lips in remorse.
“This reminds me of when we were young,” You admit, smiling ruefully. I nod again, words having lost their meaning.
We stared at each other, inspecting the other for hints of who we used to be, only to turn up empty handed.
At last your man came, calling your name from behind me, but you didn’t hear him. And for a second, I saw who you used to be, the girl I loved, taking a picture of you in that light in case it was the last time you’d ever come back.
The magic disappeared when you heard his voice, suddenly forgetting me and all our plans, and becoming who you had shaped yourself to be.
He took you in a loose grip, arm over your shoulder and with a tipsy stumble, led you out. You decided to never look back.
I stood watching at you walk away, mad we had gotten old and reckless, and wishing for one more moment as who we used to be, not who we had become.