I don’t like being alone or not having plans because the other woman invites herself over.
She invades my place and makes herself right at home, like a roommate you’ve come to hate but can’t kick out.
There were times long ago when she would be nice, even if it was backhanded. But lately she’s been mean.
I don’t like it when I don’t have anything to listen to or read or talk about. The other woman is one of those people who needs to fill the silence.
She can always read me so well.
She says the meanest things. And what impresses me the most about her is the way she always asks questions that make you feel like your chest is being crushed.
Why would anyone love you forever? I mean after they really got to know you.
What are you so proud of? Anyone could have done that and probably better.
Don’t you think you would have the thing you want by now if you really deserved it? You’re just not good enough.
She is relentless. She is cold.
I try to reason with her but that usually ends up with one of us in tears. Mostly me.
The other woman knows me better than anyone I know or have ever known. And I know her better than anyone, because I used to be her.
She is not my shadow. She is not an evil clone.
She is a scared and very lonely, little girl who is too lost and too disillusioned to remember what hope is.
The other woman isn’t a nightmare. She doesn’t only appear in the dark.
She appears in the emptiness. She appears where there is nothing. Whatever appears there after her is chased away, twisted into something empty or simply destroyed.
I think she would retire or maybe find her own place if there weren’t anything for her to wrap herself around.
But how do you chase away a woman who can turn your weapons against you? A woman who can take joy and mold it into a garbage that produces such a foul stench your mind refuses to believe it was ever anything else?
Did I mention she’s a liar? And she paints, too.
She paints these elaborate, huge works of art that eat up empty space. Paintings that could make a person feel like they’re drowning.
The other woman is careful. And sometimes I think she has a plan for me. Because she never stays longer than a few days.
So for now, I guess I’ll try to be a good host and politely ignore my unwanted guest and rejoice in the fact that she has not introduced me to her brother.
I hear he’s the worst house guest, even though he only ever visit once.
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