She comes crashing through the door. It's a silent yet loud kind of crash. You can see her and the person she is with, held together, like glue. And you wonder to yourself, why is she coming home with someone again. You hide yourself. Pressing into the corner where the back of the loveseat and the seat of the loveseat meet*.
Anyway, they tumble through the hall and into the kitchen the way you would tumble and rattle each time she'd call you for dinner. You can still remember the way she'd smile as you raced through the apartment hall to get to her. And your memories don't work the way that most memories work. You don't just see the visual representation of what you think, of what you think you might have experienced, no, not like that.
The visual movie that your brain creates for you might not be accurate and sure, it might not be one-hundred percent true but what you feel, that is what's true and real and actually, truly, fully accurate. And yes, you remember the scraping sound your feet** would make but you really remember the love. The love and the joy. The feeling that someone other than yourself cares for you and you never really got that before.
So when she comes home, again, with another person you feel jealous and sad and well, a little upset. You start to wonder if there's anything you've done wrong. If she's tired of you but there's no way she can be, is there? You aren't sure.
If you listened to music. If you wanted to listen to music. You would listen to this song***. If you could understand the lyrics, if you could understand what is happening, you would feel validated and accepted because, for some reason, this song gets it. I will read these lyrics to you:
"Your love was foreign to me. It made me think maybe human's not such a bad thing to be."
And, now that you know what I'm trying to tell you, you let these words sink into your psyche and into your soul. And you let out a soft whimper while you watch her let out her own soft whimper, or noise, you are not sure what to call it. But the person she's with, they make their own strange noise until they move towards you. And for a second you feel excited because maybe they're tired of holding onto each other in a way that told you, I hope they don't fall into the ceiling once they let go.
But instead, she grabs you by your collar angrily and pulls you towards the crate that's reserved for the times you used the bathroom on the floor. Or the times you accidentally chewed up the corners of the kitchen table but you couldn't help yourself, you had this itchy feeling in your teeth when you were younger that could only fixed by chewing on hard surfaces and the kitchen table worked for you.
But in this situation, you don't know what you did wrong. You whimper a little more and you listen to their loud whimpers and try and understand and try to think of new words to help you think about the way you feel.
But all you know is you love her and you are unsure why she doesn't love you.
*This is the only way I, since I am your inner voice, can word what you were doing. No one spent the time or the effort to teach you bigger, larger, more dense words. Your vernacular is small in comparison to others and you're really good at knowing what it means to eat or sleep or sit. But that's okay, that doesn't make you any less smart or "dumb". You are still one of the most complex beings I have ever had the pleasure of encountering. Your understanding of emotions is where your intelligence lies and if only, oh, if only you could transcend boundaries of the spoken word, everyone would want to hear what you had to say because no one -- and I mean no one -- really knows how to feel the way you know how to feel.
**Feet or hands. Whichever you prefer. The way your nails drag against the hardwood floor make a slight scraping noise and sometimes it sounds like a clip-clip-clip like someone had just thrown six six-sided-die across the length of the hallway, except they never stopped or when they did stop, they slid like a skier coming to a stop. You had never gotten used to your weight, so when you try to come to a halt after trotting at a speed that was a little too fast for the moment, you crash into the wall lightly and if you could laugh the way she laughs, you'd join in and smile with her.
***The song being referenced is above. But again, you have no interest in music. [Note: As a visitor, as an onlooker, as someone experiencing the thoughts of a character you have no place in, maybe it would be best if you didn't listen to the song either. As someone who is experiencing life in a way our vessel is experiencing life, it should be obvious to you that we should respect the overall feelings, mind, and mental capacity of aforementioned vessel. Thank you]