A Waltz of Confrontation

Monday, April 12

By Niamh Donnelly

The moon shone down on the scene in a melancholy ambiance. It cast shadows on the floor of the kitchen. A young woman tangled herself up in shadow and light as she danced with the ghost of herself. A waltz of confrontation. They would be scored on how well they performed. On one side, she is alive with happiness and dragging her ghost around, around the room. The ghost is her secrets. Her fears. The thoughts that come late at night when her partner is asleep and all she can do is stare at the blank ceiling, wishing it were the starry night sky. Every night they do this dance. Whoever wins is presented with the prize of consciousness for the next day. 

For the most part, it is her ordinary self that rises to the surface. She smiles brightly and authentically, never a doubt in her mind that she is happy with all that life provides for her. Her partner is mostly at home on these days, basking in the sunlight that seems to not only emanate from the sky but also her own self. Her happiness is intoxicating.

On the days that her ghost wins. She does also smile but she smiles with her mouth not her eyes and if you look closely you can see the tears at the rim. She is still beautiful but she is touched by darkness. She is alluring but only in small amounts. On these days, her partner seems to always be busy. She is no longer their  dose of sunshine so they must find it somewhere else because on these days the slightest interaction is draining. On these days, she thinks it’ll last forever.

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