She was.

She was a mousy girl, a wallflower type that blended into any background except for her short fiery red hair.  Never looking a person directly in the eyes, never causing a fuss, she was average if not just below. Her figure was just round, the sadness she wore on her face like a mask made her look older that she was, older than she felt deep in her soul.  This was a feeling she knew was smoldering deep inside, a buried desire to regain her spark, a spark she once had, a full blown flame really. She never let go on her deep desire to be awake again.

Love can be blind. She blinded herself to the fact that she was giving up on herself the deeper in love she fell. He was so cool. Her life could be, and was rearranged to fit into the established confusing life he led.  All the likes and dislikes wants and dreams she had got lost as she molded herself around his world.  Soon she lived in the coaster of his life, catching the cold drips that rolled down his beer.  It was quick, yet she was oblivious to the ways she changed, and rebuilt herself to fit what she thought he wanted. Hiding bad, forcing good, letting dreams go like a leaf in a stream.  Down, down, so gentle, past rocks, on the flowing ripples, to where, no one can say.

After years of spiraling down into her new self, she started yearning for something. A drastic change was needed, but she was so hollow and sleepy, gradual would have to do. 

Step by small step clues were discovered of her true self, the shell of a young lady that was cask away so long ago.  Like breadcrumbs she picked up each clue and was slowly finding her way back to herself.   Many breakdowns and hard days came, but she was still sleeping, and didn’t realize it was herself she was looking for. 

People whom always get their way are seen as lucky, but it was not the case for her.  She woke up enough to remember a big dream.  It took three hard years to build to the climax, the moment when she would be able to see it through to reality.  Hard truth knocked her to her feet.  She got the job.  But he could not go.  She could go without him.  She didn’t think she was strong enough to live without him.  Sitting on the floor of the shower she felt the death of a dream and wanted to go down the drain with the water.  Again she chose him over herself. 

Heartbreak can make a person stronger or ruin them.  His life went on better than ever, he sited his great life as the ‘sign’ of why they didn’t get to go. But she did get to go, she just chose not to because of her fear, the fear of being alone, of having to be strong and independent, to have to finally step up and start being her again, not us.   A month later she broke.

Breaking is not always bad. On that rainy day she put on her sneakers, and the closest thing to work out clothes she had, which were actually her pajamas, and walked out into the rainy city streets. Each step broke a piece of the shell off of her. Cracking like a terra cotta planter, large shards of her reality fell around her shattering on the wet concrete and getting crushed under her sopping wet sneakers.

Every day she repeated the ritual on the harsh streets. Slowly her shoes were replaced with actual running shoes and her pajamas were happily traded in for a nicer lycra blend. Each step cracked more reality off of her and she slowly began to wake up. Months later she looked in the mirror and finally recognized the shine in her own eyes, it was hidden for so long she almost forgot how happiness looked. She finally loved her body, her friends, her family, her life. She remembered feeling this alive a decade ago, but now she was somehow more alive, aware. Maybe not having the shackles of youth, instead having a scarred heart and miles of ups and downs made her appreciate all the little corners of her life. Except, she never did find another great job, that job that makes you want to get up in the morning, the one you love telling people about, the one that makes you feel a little more complete.

Armed with the ammunition of knowing herself again, and the struggles she went through to get herself back, she walked to the corner market and grabbed the paper.  Going straight for the help wanted section; she had an inner sense that what she needed was already in there waiting for her to claim it.  And there, in a simple three line ad, was the job she didn’t even realize was real, and real enough to claim.  In five minutes she typed up a cover letter straight from the heart, never even bothering to check for grammar or proper structure.  Those factors were of little consequence to the young lady reaching out to claim what she needed so bad.  Within an hour of seeing the ad, the resume and cover letter were faxed, and she knew her fate was sealed.  This would be her job. Better than his, mostly because it would be hers and hers alone.  

Twenty four hours later, almost to the minute, the phone rang. Fate called just as she was pulling up her favorite boots. Fate had an anxious voice, a fast talker with hardly a point to his sentences. The fast talking man asked a few questions then declared “you’re hired, come down here right now so I can meet you.” She glanced down at her outfit, so standard for her, so her. She wore those jeans, those boots, that sweater like it was her uniform. Not exactly what to wear when going to claim a job that was rightfully hers, except she knew the job was meant for her, so she should go in as herself. Twenty minutes later she was shaking hands with her new boss, the fast talker. He rambled on, taking pause to ask a question, she cracked some jokes, he laughed, she wondered if he was a coke head. He gave her a brief tour of the place, and she knew she was exactly where she was supposed to be, when she was supposed to be there.

This new job gave her so much more joy, adding another piece to the wonderful bright puzzle of her life. Sure there were difficulties and problems but overall it was a job she adored and was intensely proud of. Her life became a whirl of work and friends, her home was for pit stops and sleeping. It was empty there anyway; he worked all the time, so even on the nights she stayed in it was solitary.  She found out she actually loved being alone, wallowing in the silence, swimming in her own thoughts.

They became like a night sky with low hanging clouds, there were glimpses of the stars of what they were, but mostly a foggy haze of what undefined confusion they had become. She no longer lived for him, but in her years of lost quietness he had found other things to peak his interest. Mostly he did not like the changes, as she was now living for herself not what she thought he would like. He was confused by the vocal, prou,d out there, life she led, a life full of noise and people, laughter and song. Guilt hit her a lot over this change, she felt that she tricked him. She was one thing, all about him, but changed into something else. He went forward with the relationship with the shy girl that lived to be his, lived to be the thing he wanted most. Now she was living to live the life she wanted. She knew this was selfish, she felt so bad at times about this, but couldn't bring herself to start the act again, the act of being what she thought he wanted. She would not go back no matter what the risk to the ‘us’ that was created so long ago. The risk of losing ‘her’ again was not worth it, she needed to be her again, and she would have it no other way, she was going to stay awake. She was a glowing lady, a blossom that had bloomed brightly that would not wilt, only stand tall and proud with soft petals and a strong stem.