A girl with her head high
over her world,
a girl with a path
a way carved out for her.
A girl who never wandered,
who never tasted the folds and wrinkles
of the world,
reserved for the invisible,
A girl who knows
who she is
and where she's going,
a girl not the least bit lost
a girl I dream of being.
. . .but then again,
It’s always a fun experience to meet someone from your profession. Dangerous, prone to catastrophe, risky? Perhaps. Accelerating, pumping adrenaline in the veins? Most certainly. After meeting up with mister Frederick Uri Kristen. I was left with an overdose of energy, my mind wired up like a computer.
After a short break in Switzerland, she came back to the “office” and made sure she got some extra information, on her new friend, Freddy. The information that she found, were intriguing, yet not sufficient enough to give her a better picture of him. She knew that this man had a quite impressive reputation and always got his work done... even if his method might sometimes be a bit dramatic and too imaginative for her.
She preferred to do the job fast and clean. Untraceable. That was her method and she always stuck with it. Even if sometimes she might make a little spectacle, if her target was known for his deep cruelty for people that couldn’t defend themselves.
Eyes closed, she remembers Clair standing in that dark alley. She remembers her fear and a cold ice in the eyes of the killer. She cringes and calms herself down in just a matter of seconds. That case was over. The guy ten feet under. She inhales deeply. Usually, she has a faint memory of the victims face. There had been so many. Yet that man’s face really stood out in her mind. Yes, close relations, always stood out with the other memories. She shakes her head, stares at the file and puts it away on the desk.
She stares at the woman behind the desk. At her blonde hair, smooth lines and a professional look. The woman looks harmless behind the big stack of papers, and delicate glasses covering her deep blue eyes. This one not only had the looks, the brains but also the training better than the Navy Seals. “J” smiles and pushes the file forward.
Thank you, Marie. You have been a lot of help.
The woman looks up, for a moment distracted, fixing her glasses a bit to the left and smiles calmly.
Always a pleasure Jane, let me know if you need anything more... oh, and Jane, honey?
Make sure to visit us more often and not just for information and to get the paycheck.
The woman’s smile widens as she stares at the “J”, one of the best and most dangerous paid assassins with pure innocence. The tall and slim brunette looks back, pretends to show a stern expression but soon the sides of her lips quiver and she gives the other woman a huge grin.
Why Marie, you know very well that I handle my finances through a private account... I only come here for the pleasure of your company and the hot mess that people here call coffee.
The woman waves her hand in the air dismissingly and makes a gesture as if shooing Jane off and getting back to work. New assignments ready to be sent. Big money and lives about to be ended “flying around” behind the slick flat screen.
Our assassin walks away slowly and just shakes her head.
You know you love me anyway...
Marie looks up with a stern expression of her own, ready to give a little scolding, but notice the office is now completely empty and “J” is nowhere to be found. The woman shakes her head as well.
Who could I be if I didn’t stop myself
I look around. My pupils contract from the thousands lights lit around me. I stand firmly on a rooftop in one of the highest skyscrapers in NYC. I feel so fulfilled with myself I can hardly contain the huge smile appearing on my face. And I am not trying to. Not a single bad thought comes to my mind. I can't think of anything else except how happy I am. With myself firstly. And then with the life I am living. Or more accurately, with the life I created for myself with my own hard work and luck. I feel loved. I feel content with the people surrounding me and I don't miss a thing. I know the truth and I am not afraid of anything. I am powerful and comfortable in my skin. I can and I will achieve anything I want. I can't and won't be stopped. Thinking all of this, it almost feels as if I am dreaming. As soon as this thought crosses my mind I hear the loud noise of my alarm clock. I wake up and quickly look around, fearless and optimistic that my life is just as good as it was when I was dreaming. And it is. Just this one...time. It is.
I slide out of bed, fixing the sheets before I leave to change in the bathroom. No need for any alarm to awaken me on time. This was one of my abilities that I was glad for. I grabbed a pair of black ripped jeans and a semi-crop top. Munching on some fruit I found in the kitchen, I brushed my jaggedly cut, but smooth and soft, jet-black hair. I popped some bread down into the toaster and packed my school bag. I am a top notch student, musician, artist, and band geek.
I walked out of my house in my favorite pair of vans. You could say I am quite a sight, dressed in all black with a touch of dark make-up. I jingle my keys and unlock my slim black Mercedes.
Arriving at school 10 minutes early I park my car and leisurely make my way towards the front door. Everyone steers clear of me as I smirk. Slamming the door open I march down the middle of the hallway. You could call me a little violent and intense person, but I do what I am supposed to do. The teachers know how I run things and do nothing to intervene as long as I do not severely injure anyone.
Smiling I attended all my classes. There was a new girl. A prissy little thing. She acted like she was the best and was the most beautiful thing in the world. I took a strong dislike to her. Especially when she walked up to me in the hallway.
"What are you supposed to be? A gorgeous girl hiding behind darkness? A stupid band geek? A gangster's whore? Who?" She spoke in her loud and screechy voice.
I turned around. Intensely I observed her as she flinched. Not much competition. Do not get me wrong, I am not a bad person, but I do know one when I see one. She stood with her butt stuck out behind her and her chest stuck out in front. Pathetic.
"Are you going to answer me, loser?" Flipping her hair she sighs. Now everyone is watching us. That was it.
Smack! I gently slap her across the face. Not hard at all, everyone knows this except the little bitch. She starts to cry, but smacks me back lightly across my arm, even though she aimed for my face.I return this with a soft kick to her stomach and she falls on he ass. I then address the whole crowd.
"I am not a bad person, and I could have done much worse, but I did not. Never underestimate me, or anyone else. I hate it when people judge other prematurely." I pick up the books I set on the ground earlier, and walk away, calling over my shoulder, "Better get to class."
There was a rush of bodies around me as people made their way to their next class.
Finally the day was over. I sighed with impatience. What the fuck is wrong with people? One of these days I am going to snap, and the whole world will pay.
Back to life
Sensitive subjects tend to make uncomfortable situations. Placing a burden on our body to feel uncontrollable sensations. People say hurtful language with no hesitation. Making strange accusations for the benefit of confrontations.
My alter ego comes to life when I see people in such situations.
I’m the person who defends the weak beginning with deliberation.
I make careful investigation while my opponent focuses on a defamation statement.
My alter ego comes to life and when it does my expectations are high.
My alter-ego protects me from people who are ignorant to the concept of peace of mind.
My alter ego will set it straight no person can tell me what to do or what to say.
My alter ego will tell you straight you can’t beat me at the end of the day.
My alter ego is my back up when people say things detrimental to my mental state.
My alter ego won’t let me down whatever people say it is quick to respond “I’m better than great, I’m smart I’ll find my way, defend them if they have no voice to speak, you are a lion and not sheep”
So take shots at me and my loved ones.
But expect my alter ego to come to life.
Expect it will make moves systematically.
Expect it will make moves logically with no impulsivity.
Expect it to catch you when you think you have won.
But little do you know my alter ego is my most powerful tool of all.
Alter-Ego (For Now)
I fell asleep at half past ten,
waking up at nine.
I go to fix my hair and face,
But I already look fine.
I sip my hot, fresh coffee
My lipstick stays in place,
I drive to work, no hurry,
strole in at a leisurley pace.
"Good morning, boss," they tell me
Smiles all around,
I sigh out contently,
Not a worry to be found.
I walk into the house I own,
My kitties greet me at the door,
I can't wait for tomorrow,
when I get to do it again once more.
This one should be easy seeming how theres two of me
One who is happy and carefree
And the other who is just plain angry
I have two personalities that come out often that I try to control
But when I dont and angry comes free here is what happens to me
I rage on thee little things no matter how small
I will not do anything I wont even take your call
My love for everything disapperars
Sadly even for the one who calls me "lovley, dear"
I cant be talked to or talked down
And I rage as if everything has gone wrong
This is the other part of me
The one I dont really care to be
But Hopeefuly in time I can finally be free
From my boderline personality
Today is my first day off of work in two years. Today, my alarm clock didn’t go off at 4:30AM. Instead, I was awakened by the white-hot light of the Florida sun inconsiderately assaulting my eyelids. Looks like my natural wake time is actually around 8:30AM. Who knew?
I sat up and stretched my arms out above my head, just like all the pretty girls in the movies do when they wake up. I popped out of bed and slipped into my coziest sweatpants. I didn’t really have a plan for the day. I just wanted to get on the next bus out of my small town and lose myself in a city - any city.
I walked over to my closet and pushed aside my usual greys and navy blues, khakis, and dress pants. What was hiding in the back? What outfit could I choose to associate this day with for the rest of my life? Then I remembered. It was crazy, but it could be perfect. I had a trashy, tiny pink glitter mini dress from my best friend’s bachelorette party and a pair of miles-high stilettos I could wear with it. I spent the next few hours on makeup, hair, dressing, laying on the couch, and eating a quart of ice cream. Oh, how I’ve missed being myself!
Armed with my showy dress, my sexiest lingerie, my trampiest makeup, and my biggest hair, I strutted down the hall with strides miles wide. I bought a hot dog from the street cart on the corner. Then, I crossed the street and walked over to the bus stop. I took a seat on the bench next to a handsome-looking business man. He was tan, with beautiful dark hair he had combed neatly up and to the side. I noticed him eyeing me while I was crossing the street. Taking an extreme risk, I deliberately placed a small dab of mustard on his pant leg when he looked away.
“Excuse me, Sir,” I began, “I hate to bother you, but I just spilled some mustard on your pant leg there. I’m so sorry!”
“Oh, that’s alright,” he said, looking me up and down.
“Let me just get that for you,” I offered. I licked my thumb and rubbed it slowly up his thigh to get the mustard. What the f*ck am I doing?!
I looked into his eyes, blushing behind my makeup. He was blushing too!
Luckily, before things could get awkward, the bus arrived, and I was separated from my mustard spill fantasy lover. I rode the bus all the way to Ybor.
I payed my fare and started my way down the street. I had almost forgotten how crowded cities could get at night. I saw a few clubs that weren’t charging covers for ladies. I decided on one called Honey Pot. It looked the most inviting, and I was beyond ready to get a drink and start dancing. I got up to the bar and ordered myself a dirty shirley. The bartender stared at me blankly. I pulled out my phone and typed. “Sprite, Grenadine, 1 x Vodka.” I received a nod, and 30 seconds later, a drink. After paying, I turned around and found myself face to face with Mustard Man.
“Oh! Hey, how’s up - I mean what’s up?” he blurted out nervously.
“Hey there, Mustard Man. Thought I lost you when the bus stopped,” I joked.
“To be honest, I skipped a meeting to follow you here,” he replied smoothly.
“No,” he replied as he looked me over again and ran a hand back through his hair, “I just didn’t know where else to hang out tonight, and you were pretty easy to spot in that dress!”
“Well, if you’re looking to have a fun time tonight, be my guest! I’m Rori, by the way. And you are - ”
” - Tom, I’m Tom. I’m sorry, but I can’t be Mustard Man for the rest of the night,” he chuckled.
I laughed, and then I snorted. Loudly. I'm glad that was Rori, not me.
We danced the night away and enjoyed a few more drinks together. Then, I took Tom back to my place.
The next morning, I woke up to my blaring alarm in the dark, and it was time to be Ted again. Just Ted at Best Buy, selling you some flashy new TV and upgrading your warranty on the way out. I sat in bed and contemplated the consequences of not going to work and concluded that hot water is a good enough incentive to go. I showered, got dressed, slammed a cup of coffee, and made my way to the door. Just before I left, I noticed a mustard packet Tom had jokingly left on the bookshelf. I slipped it into my pocket with a smile, and remembered how good it felt to be loved as myself.