The lost girl on the road

The North, April 22

She used to be whole and now she is two. The light one: motivated, courageous, creative. And the dark one: old and dull. Cant make anything of herself. The light one fades bit by bit. Gradual as the grey hairs which multiply. Like the fine lines. The dark one appears in shop mirrors and window reflections like a strange, ugly relative. She looks sort of angry. Mean. Quizzical. She doesn’t look like she’s very pleased with anything she sees.

Where did that happy young woman go?

“Where did she go?” the woman asks the road. Grips the wheel and screams at the road ahead “WHERE IS SHE?”

She really screams. Shocks herself a little. A sound so angry and lonely and raw, her mouth pulled tight and it hurt at the edges with the wideness of it.

Abandoned by her light self. Her happy, motivated self. Her confidence. Her youth. “Why did you leave me behind?” she sobs. “Why did you leave me?” Lip wobbles like a child.

Couldn’t find the turning that she knew. Took the wrong one and wrong again and even turned around on the right one before going the whole loop to get to the right house from the other direction. Made herself 10 minutes further late.

Dishevelled. Got up too late and didn’t shower. Did the dishes but rushed breakfast and felt bad for leaving. Bad decisions. Bad planning. Bad person. “I used to be good at this”

He’ll ask her what she’s done and it will never feel enough. His loveliness and her resentment and another reason to feel awful.