Wonderwall

Originally posted on Escapism – for the girl I'll never be, for the girl I almost am:

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Our bodies brushed together. I pushed myself closer and closer to him all the time, not because I wanted him but because I didn’t want myself. For a couple of minutes, I remembered what it’s like to be young and scared and wanting so badly to give yourself away, because you don’t know what to with all that’s been given to you. You do it with eyes wide shut and a burning desire to never get yourself back. There I was again, trying to negotiate my peace of mind with any stranger – since God, who has, at this point, turned into some sort of business partner (‘I’ll be a good girl, just please make this and that come true’) seemed to have run out of it. His grip got tighter and tighter as the minutes and our acquaintances passed by. His body was cold, his breath smelled of alcohol…

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