Out of Place and Under Dressed

Long streams of straw-crinkled, blonde hair fell messily around my dark rimmed reading glasses and onto my shoulders, shielding my gaze from the bright lights of the cafe as I stared aimlessly at the blank lined pages on my lap. I took a long draw from the brewing coffee on the worn table, and shuffled around a bit, finding a comfy spot within the deep set folds of warm leather and furry cushions as Willow and Anya gossiped on about anything and everything in our boring day-to-day lives. I both sounded and looked like a pessimistic nobody these days, cross-legged at the back of one of Starbucks's homely couches, ignoring everything around me and wallowing in my own abyss of self-pity. I'm surprised the girls haven't given up on me yet, seeing as though for the past week all I had managed to do was mope around after them, complaining about the joys of life and people being happy. I had my reasons though.

So instead of being out, living my glorious life to the full, I was here, fresh on a Saturday afternoon in a relatively quiet coffee shop, attempting yet failing miserably, to complete my English assignment whilst becoming ever more envious of my two best friends in the entire world. Compared to me they had it all; perfect looks and flawless personalities, excelling jobs, lively social lives and electrifying relationships with descent, considerate guys. Me? What the hell did I have? As of last Tuesday, my fantabulous, mind-blowing, life changing 21st birthday (insert sarcasm here), my 18 month trust filled relationship with my childhood crush had come to an abrupt halt, my low paying yet mildly satisfying job at a local restaurant had fired me due to lack of profit and to top it all off, I had been given the role of head bridesmaid to my elder sister, having all pressure, responsibility and trust placed roundly on my shoulders for her April ceremony. It was inevitable that I'd buckle at some point; I just thought I could hold off till at least Sunday.

It wasn't so much the chaos that was knawing constantly at my confidence and overall happiness, but more the sudden blow of having the one person that you gave your heart and soul to throw it back in your face with an intrepid smirk and closed front door. He felt no shame or remorse for his actions; no tears were shed on his part as I heaved my belongings from our shared flat pathetically into the trunk of my car. He simply carried on as if nothing ever happened, playing out his life without a care in the world, whilst I replayed every smile and memory from the cover of my mother's spare room. Pitiable much?

I leant over once more to take another long swig from my sweet, milky concoction before flopping back into the couch and staring at my blank page yet again. I was known for my way with words and vivid imagination, and I was the one without a hint of inspiration or guidance in my time of need. This whole thing was meant to be completed and handed in by Monday, leaving me absolutely no time to think. 10,000 words sifted from the swirls of my mind into the form of a short love story was the goal. When you actually look at it, that isn't a whole lot of writing, but seeing as though it had taken me 2 weeks so far to come up with the catchphrase line, one bloody line, I didn't have very high hopes. The essay may as well have been 12 miles long and it wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference to my distracted, tired brain. I'd had some help from the girls, mainly having them tell me over and over again to just write down a very graphic, 5 page sex scene, not to mention any names and leave out all personal and identifiable info. Somehow, that idea was ignored. I never was one for vagueness or hazy, half-hearted jottings that most of our class came up with, which is why I guess I set myself some pretty high boundaries. Something I highly regret now.

As I shifted about in my seat again I caught part of the girls exceedingly loud conversation about my lack of personality recently. I amaze myself really on how well I can block out an entire world surrounding me even in such a cosy environment as this. It's like the red carpet scenario; chaotic, ear-bursting shouts, constant flashes of cameras and the incessant buzz of paparazzi milling around you. It's as if you are drowning in a mass of noise so loud that it's silent. That's how I viewed life as a whole really; so incredibly deafening that I don’t hear it any more. Just white noise...
"She's basically just a shell."
"Yeah I know, but what the hell can we do?"
"Beats me. I tried taking her to one of the clubs a few nights ago, get some drinks into her that kinda thing, but she wouldn’t have it. Just wanted to stay at her mom's house and watch sappy movies."
"I can see where she is coming from though. I mean, their relationship was major."
"Yeah, she saw him as 'the one' or so I heard."
"Guy's a dick, doesn't deserve anyone's time."
"What's he even doing now? I mean, he doesn’t strike me as the kinda guy to just be on his own."
"Martha moved in with him," I interjected, raising my covered gaze to meet the sea green eyes of my two best friends across the table, each nursing a cup of steaming coffee in their hands.
"Martha? Who's that?"
"His other girl," I practically whispered, vivid images of them being close and cuddly filling my mind at the mere mention of her name. I knew her from high school; stunning brunette, highly intelligent and most sought after of the sophomores. Even in her youngest years she was breathtaking, capturing the attention of guys and girls alike for her relaxed nature and bubbly exterior. I was partnered with her in many school projects as her surname was near mine in the registers, but we never connected. I was just another dull canvas to her, painted in pastels and left in the sun for too long.
"She's living with him? How long have they been toge- err, um..."
"He's been with her for nearly 7 months with me as a side act. They're really close." All this was said in a monotonous mumble as I tried not to break down for the umpteenth time this week. Both girls noticed my discomfort and abruptly stopped the conversation, deciding that weekend holidays would be a good change of topic, but no matter how hard they tried, I simply couldn't get the image of her with his tattooed hands, the hands he once said belonged to me, trailing all over her. I loved him, to the very bottom of my soul, and all he could do, was love someone else.

All of this could have been so good for my story, I could have basically written out my loving, caring relationship and hideous breakup and just changed the names, but no, it had to be "caring". Miss Powter spoke only of love, un-dying, pure devotion and chaste bliss. No weighted dark tear-stains or endless nights drawn into miserable mornings. I didn't classify as appropriate. Typical...

I leant down to the wooden floor, retrieving my tan handbag and pulling out my over-used iPod from its depths.
"Mind if I nab a mint?"
"Sure thing" I murmured, handing Anya the small packet of soft white mints clicking my nails absentmindedly on the table as I did so.
"Taa doll." I smiled back to her, offering the packet to Willow but seeing her shake her head, and slumped back to my slouch on the sofa, earphones firmly in place.

As I clicked randomly through song after song, hopelessly searching for something to lighten my mood, I decided to take a look around the place I so frequently visited, and actually indulge in some form of polite greeting to the staff. They all knew me, by both name and occupation and I was a welcomed visitor on my days off to come and sit around over a coffee or two. I saw the familiar faces of Nigel and Trish stood patiently behind the counter as a bunch of loud teenagers fussed over what to get and Sarah hum faint tunes to herself as she wiped down nearby tables, their inhabitants having upped and left a while back. I enjoyed being in here. Compared to most places it was never crowded, never packed. I was a refined claustrophobe and being in tightly packed places for even the shortest amount of tie got to me, but in here it was calm, relaxing, and easy. The dark red walls and chocolate furniture made it feel warm and inviting, while the soft lighting from numerous lamps and spotlights gave it a cosy feel. To me it was like being at home, only without the nagging, overprotective mother and hyperactive Burmese Mountain Dog urging me to play. Here I was able to just drift off into my world and forget about reality until it suited me.