What I'm Supposed to Say
A life full of lies jumping off of Diana Goodman's lips, all because she was supposed to say them. It all started with three words that most girls would die to hear, but that made Diana want to die. She knew how easy they were to say, and how easy it was to convince herself that she meant them. Diana's POV set in the early stages of her and Dan's relationship.
"I love you."
The words crawled slowly into my ears, as if Dan had been speaking in slow motion. They traveled to my brain, which tried to process them. Love. Him. Me. He. Loves. I. Love. The words didn't seem to fit together, but they were there together.
Like puzzle pieces that didn't belong together, but look as if they might- so you push and shove them, trying to make them fit the way they look like they should, but they never do.
An uncontrollable pounding echoed through my body, and I recognized it as my heart. It was confused, and full, and broken, all at the same time. The words hit my heart, and it didn't know what to do with them. It tried to understand what they meant, because since my mother had been gone, since my father began blaming me – I hadn't heard those words. I couldn't remember the last time my ears had to hear them, my brain to process had them, or my heart had to melt at the sound of them. A rush of happiness washed over me, but the wave crashed, and the water crawled back to sea, and the happiness ended, as it always did.
Someone loved me. Someone cared. Someone great, genuine, and bright like Dan. My heart filled with gratefulness along with the words, because I know how hard it is to go without them for so long, and I should be happy to be hearing them. For some reason, the words began to cause me pain. Now it was coming back to me – the last time I heard them.
My mom. She told me she loved me. And she left. She didn't leave to where I could call her, write or visit, she left to somewhere where she'd never be able to say those words to me again. Where she didn't have to. Over the years, I'd started thinking, that if she loved me, she wouldn't be dead. She wouldn't have done it, if she loved me she would have stayed. But she didn't…so she lied. My mom lied because she had to. She was my mom, moms are supposed to tell their daughters they love them. And boyfriends were supposed to tell their girlfriends, and that's why Dan was doing it. That had to be why.
The words had sunken into my heart, scratching it and pulling at it as they did so, causing it pain and trying to break it more. But I managed to force the words from my heart, to my lips, and I let myself return the words to Dan. Because that's what girlfriends are supposed to do.
Saying it because I had to – I had never felt more like my mother.