Missing
how to disappear completely
There are many words for who I am, or what I am. My father used "bitch". My boyfriend liked "sociopath" better, since he likes to think he respects women. (If he did, he wouldn't have cheated on me with that barely legal skank with the big tits).
If I had to choose a moniker I liked better, I suppose I'd pick sociopath, but if I'm being honest, I'd rather just be addressed by my name.
My name is Mea. That's pronounced May, like the season, derived from the Roman goddess Maia, my name sake. She represents growth; nurturing. I'm her ironic opposite-- less of a goddess and more of a fury, a psycho bitch of vengeance and destruction.
Disappearing completely is easier than most people might think. It helps that I'm smart--I'm twenty-one and possessed of a college education that passed through three different ivys before ending at MIT-- but leaving behind your identity is more research than cunning. Making the decision to never be seen again was the hard part-- covering my tracks was easy.
I destroyed every picture of myself I could get my hands on; burned them in my backyard fire pit while drinking a class of wine, my own personal toast to my new life. I abandoned my car in the lot of one of the bad neighborhoods of Chicago, with the doors unlocked and the pink slip left intact. A field day for a thief. In the months before my disappearance, I slowly tapered off my usage of social media, until none became the norm. No one was surprised when I deleted my Facebook and the Twitter I'd used in college.
My credit cards went, too-- shredded and driven directly to the dump by yours truly, instead of risking investigators of my disappearance rifling through my garbage and finding them. From now on it's cash only. I've been taking little bits of money at a time out of my bank account for almost a year now, and storing the money in a plastic bag I will take with me.
Originally, I considered going rogue; communing with nature. But I'm a city girl by design, having spent my entire life in and out of Chicago, and despite the amount of people, the city is the perfect place to remain anonymous.
Not Chicago, of course. (Too close to home, literally). I thought Bay Area, originally, but now I'm thinking New York. It doesn't really matter which, but flying anywhere is out of the question until I can secure a new ID and social security number. There's too much information you have to give to get a plane ticket. It's not worth risking giving up my name.
Of course, my name won't be Mea anymore. My name will be Celeste Ulic, and my story is that I'm an immigrant from French Canada. I speak fluent French, so it seemed the easiest way to go, instead of trying to salvage the small bit of broken Spanish I know.
I have $10,237 in cash. It's not a lot to keep me living forever, especially if I'm going to use motels rather than sleeping in my getaway car (which is the shittiest station wagon I could find on craigslist-- only $300, that I paid for in cash) so I'm going to have to turn to labor as a source of income. I'll probably be a maid of some sort, that's easy in the city. Every place in the country loves immigrant labor-- they'll underpay me, but they'll pay me in cash, and they won't ask questions. I'm not really concerned with the politics of it.
Tomorrow is the day I leave. My boyfriend, who I live with in a pathetically overpriced apartment, is leaving for O'Hare at 5 am to board a plane to LA, which is where his latest 'work conference' is. I don't trust him, if you haven't noticed. I thought he might have been interesting when we met, when I was at Harvard, and he was at MIT. I transferred schools to be closer to him. I was so fucking stupid to think that I could have been who he wanted, to think that uprooting my life to live with him in Chicago after graduation was what I wanted.
My boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend, now, considering I'll never see him again after tomorrow) is named Jonathan Cook. He's the very embodiment of sad, horny, and pathetic, and if things go as planned, he will spend the rest of his life wondering: Where is Mea Constance?
If I had to choose a moniker I liked better, I suppose I'd pick sociopath, but if I'm being honest, I'd rather just be addressed by my name.
My name is Mea. That's pronounced May, like the season, derived from the Roman goddess Maia, my name sake. She represents growth; nurturing. I'm her ironic opposite-- less of a goddess and more of a fury, a psycho bitch of vengeance and destruction.
Disappearing completely is easier than most people might think. It helps that I'm smart--I'm twenty-one and possessed of a college education that passed through three different ivys before ending at MIT-- but leaving behind your identity is more research than cunning. Making the decision to never be seen again was the hard part-- covering my tracks was easy.
I destroyed every picture of myself I could get my hands on; burned them in my backyard fire pit while drinking a class of wine, my own personal toast to my new life. I abandoned my car in the lot of one of the bad neighborhoods of Chicago, with the doors unlocked and the pink slip left intact. A field day for a thief. In the months before my disappearance, I slowly tapered off my usage of social media, until none became the norm. No one was surprised when I deleted my Facebook and the Twitter I'd used in college.
My credit cards went, too-- shredded and driven directly to the dump by yours truly, instead of risking investigators of my disappearance rifling through my garbage and finding them. From now on it's cash only. I've been taking little bits of money at a time out of my bank account for almost a year now, and storing the money in a plastic bag I will take with me.
Originally, I considered going rogue; communing with nature. But I'm a city girl by design, having spent my entire life in and out of Chicago, and despite the amount of people, the city is the perfect place to remain anonymous.
Not Chicago, of course. (Too close to home, literally). I thought Bay Area, originally, but now I'm thinking New York. It doesn't really matter which, but flying anywhere is out of the question until I can secure a new ID and social security number. There's too much information you have to give to get a plane ticket. It's not worth risking giving up my name.
Of course, my name won't be Mea anymore. My name will be Celeste Ulic, and my story is that I'm an immigrant from French Canada. I speak fluent French, so it seemed the easiest way to go, instead of trying to salvage the small bit of broken Spanish I know.
I have $10,237 in cash. It's not a lot to keep me living forever, especially if I'm going to use motels rather than sleeping in my getaway car (which is the shittiest station wagon I could find on craigslist-- only $300, that I paid for in cash) so I'm going to have to turn to labor as a source of income. I'll probably be a maid of some sort, that's easy in the city. Every place in the country loves immigrant labor-- they'll underpay me, but they'll pay me in cash, and they won't ask questions. I'm not really concerned with the politics of it.
Tomorrow is the day I leave. My boyfriend, who I live with in a pathetically overpriced apartment, is leaving for O'Hare at 5 am to board a plane to LA, which is where his latest 'work conference' is. I don't trust him, if you haven't noticed. I thought he might have been interesting when we met, when I was at Harvard, and he was at MIT. I transferred schools to be closer to him. I was so fucking stupid to think that I could have been who he wanted, to think that uprooting my life to live with him in Chicago after graduation was what I wanted.
My boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend, now, considering I'll never see him again after tomorrow) is named Jonathan Cook. He's the very embodiment of sad, horny, and pathetic, and if things go as planned, he will spend the rest of his life wondering: Where is Mea Constance?
♠ ♠ ♠
Hiiiii. x This is loosely inspired by Gone Girl, mostly because that's where my mind went with the title. This should end up being a full-length story, this is sort of the prologue.This is what I imagined Mea/Celeste looking like:
Mea.
Comments/recs/etc are super appreciated!