Fly on the Wall

I know what you're doing. You're running away.

Your body, which once stood strong and proud but is now a nervous, slouchy heap, flinches as you hear me. You know I have been following you all along, but I suppose you did not expect my company today. Honestly, your appearance stuns me as much as my voice must startle you. These past few months have ruined you, no doubt. When was the last time you smiled, showing off that little dimple in your right cheek? You used to be the life of the party, the athlete, the brains, the person we all turned to for an emotional debrief. The ultimate all-rounder. But that spark in your eyes, the one everyone always knew you for, is no more. Your luscious golden locks have become dull grey strands hanging over your forehead. They're getting a little long, don't you think? So much so that I cannot quite tell where your hair ends and your beard starts. I wonder if you can even see the ground beneath you through them, as you carelessly drag your sorry feet through last night's puddles. Trust me when I tell you that seeing you like this crushes my heart. You're hardly more alive than I am.

I see you are headed towards the station. You must think you will be gone for a while, since you are lugging your huge suitcase around. Ah yes, the suitcase. Right in the middle of that hard, dark blue exterior there is still a large mark from when you removed a sticker you regretted decorating it with. One of the bottom corners is chipped from that time you tried to take a short cut through a rocky hill and lost grip. It annoys you that the wheel in that corner has kept popping out ever since, but not enough for you to get a new suitcase. Inside, there are three compartments. The large one is for your clothes, which you have arranged by color and compressed into storage vacuum bags. Of the two smaller ones, the first is for underwear and the second is for snacks from home, because you can never be sure that you'll enjoy the food elsewhere and hate being hungry more than anything. You're not surprised that I remember all of that, are you? After all, this is your favorite suitcase, the one you always used to bring along on our holidays together. It seems like a lifetime ago that we were just a couple of young, close friends who simply wanted to enjoy life, and when I see that suitcase, I can't help but delight in memories of the places to which it traveled with us. For a moment, I am fully content. For a moment, I forget what you have done to me.

Your train must be arriving soon, since you have chosen not to sit down while you wait. Are you cold, or feeling a little on edge? I can see your leg quivering under those old jeans. Relax, old friend. I do not mean any harm. Haunting you does not bring me any joy, you know. Surely you can acknowledge that I was a kind person. Never one to pick a fight. Never one to hold grudges. Certainly never one to linger around past their welcome, or cling onto someone in the hopes of taking away the last of their sanity. I always believed that people are inherently good and that we should always try to see the best in others. But focusing on the positives in others made me gullible. I ignored one red flag after another and trusted far too many people. It seems obvious now that for both of us, our greatest qualities were also our greatest flaws; our strengths were actually our weaknesses. I always liked you, way before you became my best friend. How could I not? Your outgoing nature attracted people to you like a magnet and you never even had to try. You consistently went out of your way to lend a friendly hand to others. You seemed great, until the very end. You wouldn't hurt a fly. I loved that about you. You see, that's exactly what I loathe about you now. You were so concerned about pleasing people that you were petrified of expressing your true thoughts when you saw someone was in the wrong and couldn't help them see what was in their best interest. I learned the hard way that the good must come hand in hand with the bad, but you chose to only ever open your eyes to one of those. I'm sure you can see that you have left me little choice but to torture you like this. You weren't there for me when I needed you. I needed you and you let me down.

I know what you're thinking. "I didn't take your life away from you," I hear you silently cry out. You are absolutely right, old friend. After all, it was not you who led me down the wrong path. I know better than to blame others and refuse accountability for my own detrimental decisions. I understand that a lot of the pain I inflicted on myself. My desire to be loved drove me crazy. I so desperately wanted to figure out who I was, no matter what it cost me. I rolled from one bad crowd to another trying to fit in, not realizing that before long the only bad crowd left was me. Instead of finding myself, I lost everything that was ever mine. My spirit, my identity, my best friend. Although it begs the question - if someone only wishes to be involved when all is well, are you really that close with them at the end of the day? You watched it all and you did nothing. Maybe you thought it was just a normal phase of maturation that I would eventually grow out of, if we waited long enough. Maybe you were worried that trying to force me back on track would drive me further away. I know this is not how you wanted things to turn out. You simply did not want to upset me. You would never hurt a fly.

So now I am a fly on the wall of your life and there is nothing you can do to hurt me.

You were right to remain standing, that did not take long at all. Looks like you will be sitting for a while once you get on; your destination is hours away. Do these trains have bathrooms on them? Look at you, you're pathetic. Glancing around the carriage to make sure no one's paying you any attention, but doing so quickly to keep your paranoia from showing. You think you're leaving your problems behind, don't you? If that was true, then why can you still hear me? Admit it, you're not even sure if this voice is yours or mine. Your cheeks are going red and I can spot those little droplets on your forehead from all the way over here. You're sweating. Does it ever torment you that I could still be alive?

I know where you're going. And I'll find you there, too.