I never really understood what it was until after she was gone...
This prompt has caused me to ponder a lot. Not because I couldn't think of what to write, but rather the fact that I am not certain I want to bare my soul this much to a multitude of strangers. At any other time, this entry would not only be friends only, but filtered to a tiny handful of people. The last time I wrote about this was years and four journal accounts ago. I thought I'd never write about it again. However, I will make it considerably short and to the point this go around. Some of the things that happened are just better left in silence.
She was lovely. Not just on the outside, but the inside as well. Charitable and caring, one would wonder why she did what she did to survive. But that was just it. It was a job, a living, nothing more.
From day one, I was drawn to her. We had applied for a job on the same day. We sat at the bar, one seat between us. At that point, I couldn't believe I had lowered my standards so much as to ask for an application at a strip joint. But what the hell.. it was better then the alternative. I couldn't help but look at her out of the corner of my eye. She was certainly dressed for her part. Mini-skirt, stockings, heels... the whole nine yards. She made me feel plain in my low-cut top, tight cut-offs and sneakers. At one point she caught me looking at her and grinned at me before I had the chance to advert my eyes. I blushed slightly, feeling as if I had been doing something I wasn't supposed to. She slid over to take the seat between us and just started talking to me. Asked me how old I was, what I was applying for and the like. Before I knew it, we were sharing stories about our lives. When the owner finally made it over to us, he asked us what we were applying for, nodded, said we were hired and to show up the next night. It was the easiest job I had ever landed.
From that point on, we were joined at the hip. We got a place together and became the best of roommates. I was constantly drawn to her. She could talk me into doing anything, and did. She was care-free, adventurous, fun-loving. We partied all the time. At work and after, staying up until the wee hours of the morning when we would pass out in each others arms.. or laps.. or sprawled over couches and chairs.
The job had its dangers, of course. I wasn't as worried because I was just a waitress. As for her, she was the star. The one every man coveted. She was the most talented dancer and the cleanest. (Meaning she never touched drugs. That fact alone made her more beautiful then the rest, I believe, Soft hair, clear skin. She was damn near angelic.) The nights she worked were always the most packed. There was jealousy from the other dancers of course, but they could never be mad at her because she always treated everyone with the highest of respect. She was kind, and generous, and would often help others out if they didn't make their expected pay for the evening.
Then one night, after work, she was attacked. Her attacker had stabbed her with a large blade, multiple times. By the time I got to her, there was nothing I could do. It was the first time I had ever had anyone close to me die. And so far, the only time anyone has ever died in my arms. It is a feeling I would never wish upon anyone. Losing someone this way.
For years I have mourned the loss of her, and to some degree, I still do. I thought of her as my sun, and I was her Icarus. Though now, looking back, I think it was she who was Icarus, for the sun never fell.
written for therealljidol week 10
She was lovely. Not just on the outside, but the inside as well. Charitable and caring, one would wonder why she did what she did to survive. But that was just it. It was a job, a living, nothing more.
From day one, I was drawn to her. We had applied for a job on the same day. We sat at the bar, one seat between us. At that point, I couldn't believe I had lowered my standards so much as to ask for an application at a strip joint. But what the hell.. it was better then the alternative. I couldn't help but look at her out of the corner of my eye. She was certainly dressed for her part. Mini-skirt, stockings, heels... the whole nine yards. She made me feel plain in my low-cut top, tight cut-offs and sneakers. At one point she caught me looking at her and grinned at me before I had the chance to advert my eyes. I blushed slightly, feeling as if I had been doing something I wasn't supposed to. She slid over to take the seat between us and just started talking to me. Asked me how old I was, what I was applying for and the like. Before I knew it, we were sharing stories about our lives. When the owner finally made it over to us, he asked us what we were applying for, nodded, said we were hired and to show up the next night. It was the easiest job I had ever landed.
From that point on, we were joined at the hip. We got a place together and became the best of roommates. I was constantly drawn to her. She could talk me into doing anything, and did. She was care-free, adventurous, fun-loving. We partied all the time. At work and after, staying up until the wee hours of the morning when we would pass out in each others arms.. or laps.. or sprawled over couches and chairs.
The job had its dangers, of course. I wasn't as worried because I was just a waitress. As for her, she was the star. The one every man coveted. She was the most talented dancer and the cleanest. (Meaning she never touched drugs. That fact alone made her more beautiful then the rest, I believe, Soft hair, clear skin. She was damn near angelic.) The nights she worked were always the most packed. There was jealousy from the other dancers of course, but they could never be mad at her because she always treated everyone with the highest of respect. She was kind, and generous, and would often help others out if they didn't make their expected pay for the evening.
Then one night, after work, she was attacked. Her attacker had stabbed her with a large blade, multiple times. By the time I got to her, there was nothing I could do. It was the first time I had ever had anyone close to me die. And so far, the only time anyone has ever died in my arms. It is a feeling I would never wish upon anyone. Losing someone this way.
For years I have mourned the loss of her, and to some degree, I still do. I thought of her as my sun, and I was her Icarus. Though now, looking back, I think it was she who was Icarus, for the sun never fell.
written for therealljidol week 10