|not quite a love song
||[Feb. 26th, 2007|10:39 am]
What if every person had rubber bands stretching from somewhere inside their chest, and the other end of each one is wrapped around the finger of each person they've ever met. These people holding the rubber bands can move closer and relax the tension, or pull harder, harder on the person's chest by moving further away.|
Or they can let go with their finger and the rubber band will snap back slapping against the person's ribs and all their internal organs.
The closer you are to someone, the more they impact your life, your choices and opinions and hopes, the thicker their rubber band is. The thicker it is, the more force it will have when they let their finger slip and the rubber band comes stinging back against you.
I have a story. Rachel and Adam are in love, in the sweet way where it's the beginning and maybe, maybe it isn't really love yet but who really cares because it sure as hell feels like it. Rachel thinks that maybe this is what family means: her friends and Adam, way more important than divorced parents ever were to a lonely only child. What Adam thinks is hard to say, because Rachel doesn't know and Adam doesn't really know either.
Adam knows a girl named Cindy, and Cindy is in love in the corrosive, obsessive way, where she can't let the object of her affection be happy unless he's happy with her. So Cindy gets Adam drunk, very drunk, drunk enough to confuse him into passion. There they are, sweaty and naked and inebriated, when Rachel finds them.
Rachel feels her rubber band snap hard, harder than anything ever, hardest. But then she sees Adam's face when she tells him it's over, and she realizes that sometimes the thick rubber bands can break, and snap back on both people at once.
The story isn't finished but can't decide what comes next.