How easy it is to the beautiful appearance to one of them to deceive the environment to make the sad faces on the head and to show the world the smile that she has always wanted.
How easy it is to silent screams to ignore, overlook faded wounds and scars.
to maintain the facade - that I had learned as a child. From the outside everything seemed perfect. My father, originating from a trained and reasonable family from the deep south of France, grew up between two older brothers and a younger sister learned that my mother, second generation of British, devout immigrant family with Irish and Welsh background, all of which are occasionally loud, laughing too much Guinness or whiskey begrudged know, the usual game and then followed with love, engaged, married.
Happiness is completed with a small daughter, who was perhaps the wrong time in the world - in the middle during the study period of overly concerned mother - but was still spoiled from all sides.
What behind the door waited and waited, no one really knew so - or perhaps it saw any, maybe it also heard everyone, maybe it knew anyone who made up just all blind, deaf and dumb.
On the day when my father was the last time raised his hand to me, sometime in the dark summer after my eighteenth birthday, years after the separation from my mother, was the day he died once for me, and some more years later, he really died because of cancer - perhaps deserved, perhaps not - had eaten through his body.
As I saw it myself - as a compassionate, sympathetic friend of the their own destiny was shaped so they assumed they would have enough empathy, empathize with every situation, to understand each situation, empathize. Blinded by my own pain I was, however, was just as blind as everyone else.
I got coughing up the stairs to the apartment of the queen, had side aches when I finally arrived panting at the door, my fingers twitching after the next cigarette. One of her sisters had called me, had sounded frightened, scared and it was almost the same sister who left me in the apartment.
I asked myself again and again, as so many people could live here - I wondered but probably more often, as the queen could live here. She had wished golden palaces and a diamond-studded throne, and was instead in the run-down houses of the landed peasants.
"What happened?" I asked the nurse who looked oppressed on the ground and then pointed to the bathroom with a shrug. I frowned, plop left my purse on the floor next to the high-heeled shoes of the queen and followed her scent.
There she stood, then, the Queen, leaning over the sink. Her face was covered by a curtain of her dark hair. I noticed the blood, like tears on tap along was lonely and was dripping into the drain.
"You know, Coke makes a really dry nose," I said.
She remained silent.
"Hold your head back. This is to help with nose bleeds, I have. "
She said nothing. Her silence gave me almost crazy.
"Your sister has not called me seriously because of your epistaxis, right? I could tell her directly that you thanks to your "
" I'm not a bleeding nose, okay? "Her voice was muffled strange. "And anyway, I think you should just go."
This struck me on a very sore spot deep in the chambers of my heart. It hit me worse than I would have perhaps expected. This newfound distance and coldness between us, this newfound resentment of mine that was against them. It hurt.
"I will not go easy," I said angry and it made me even more angry that she looked not even looked at me and I look at her beautiful face, was able to absorb into me.
know "you, that's the problem with you - this was not always like this? If you something is too much, you go it always the way out. This is between us not as long as it once was. As it was beginning. How I adored but have loved. And now, I do not know, I wish I could say you do not mind. I wish I could just hate you and forget you because you deserve it. "The words bubbled out of me because they had been waiting for it to be pronounced, and while I think the only way herunterleierte monologue, I saw her body was shaken by a fit of laughter.
"Why are you laughing now?" I asked. "You know, I just happen to me? How I generally always happen because of you? "
She sat up with a jerk, a manic gleam in her dark eyes. "Damn, how often? Why are you always back up just to "
I took a step, stared at her dumbfounded. The blood had poured from her mouth, I realized now that her entire left side of his face was swollen, tears run their makeup. She looked like a broken child. My breath stopped. Tears welled in my eyes, I wanted to hug her, but she stepped back, pushed me from him. "Who the fuck up has so tanned? Your stepfather? "
" Can you still be a shit, "she hissed with a scornful tone," for my first class any dealer to whom I owed money. Or a guy who I rumkriegen wanted and did not make it. Maybe it was someone with whom I had an open account. Any hookers, hustlers, Knastis, Drogis, Alkis, pimps. Perhaps it was your friend, because you still belong to me and he knows that. "I went through the last part, even when my heart began to tremble. Hot tears ran down my cheeks burned terribly on my skin.
"Well, what story you want to hear," she asked with a crazy grin on her blood red lips.
"How about the truth?"
know "you, the truth is relative. Just because we maintain two different views on something and perceive things differently, it must not mean directly that one of us is lying. "
" You are evading me on it, and you know that "
" shit, "she said, "the truth your little broken heart would not be tolerated anyway. If your little perfect world make breakable. So let's leave that now, you go home and do your beautiful legs wide for your love and I now put to bed and throw a couple of pain pills to me quite foggy in the head. "
" destroy worlds? With domestic violence "
you began to laugh, louder than before. "This has nothing to do with domestic violence. Otherwise I would have probably said that I slipped on the toy of my half-brother, the stairs have been dropped and so now here half die of pain. "Her laugh echoed in the small bathroom again and again, it seemed from all bashing us. "It's this stereotypical behavior, right? You tell me what your dear mother always told as "The Queen
scattered no salt in wounds;? They preferred with a sarcastic smile aufzukratzen scars and rub them with salt, not weeping tears. As I
it had no answer, she let herself plop down on the toilet lid and saw me playing with a full look at her expectantly. "Well, what do you say? Do not you want much prefer a story to hear from me in the super heroine costume, which took place yesterday gekloppt night with a gang of robbers? "
" Please, let it be. "I realized how desperate I sounded, I was sitting in front of them on the floor and looked at her, wanted to touch every single point on their body, each wound with kisses cover, they heal. "I'm worried about you, you understand that? I love you and I'm terrible worry. Because I do not know what's going on. What with you is wrong. For years. For years, you give no clear answer. You from blocks. You tell me off blocks. "I took her hands in mine, but they withdrew again. "I want to hear the truth."
met your eyes and think for a split second I read the silent pain in them, before he faded away again. "You know it already. You're just too blind to see it. "
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