She didn't know what this pain was called, just shy of 21 she had felt it since she could remember. She could always admit to herself her problems, it scared her this one she couldn't. She had stopped crying long enough for the echos of the two girls to bounce off her walls. Heavy gasps and sighs were present, if she was still long enough she could hear the groaning of tension coming from the bed in the room next to her. A twisting pain twirls in her stomach, she had named this love.
Her name was Tegan, she's known this since she was five years old. The girl in the next room was Sara, she had known this as her name since she was three. Both of them were twins, genetically one. Tegan had always felt this connection, she always felt like Sara was her second half, iher soul-mate/i. She knew Sara had been born, because what ever that was in the sky had designed Tegan to never be alone. She ijust/i knew it.
She knew she loved her twin, as one should love they're partner. Tegan hated herself for this, such sickness in her head, such horrendous feelings, not to mention the disgrace. She didn't hate the girl who laid next Sara, because figured she could never hate any one as much as she hated herself.
She smiles to herself, as she hears Sara voice letting everyone in the tiny Gastown apartment know, she was about to hit her high. Tegan's hands grip at the sheets, her body excited by the thoughts of herself giving Sara the same pleasure. Her teeth rip at her chapped lips, her legs collide together tightly, feeling the tingling reaction of these thoughts.
She closes her eyes, her body aware of what she was doing to herself, her mind was oblivious to the overwhelming pleasure. Tegan was almost to the point of the closet thing she knew as an orgasm, her mind was still set on Sara in the other room. Little to her knowledge, Sara's mind painted pictures of Tegan, much the same way whenever she looked up at her lover.
bTegan/b
My breaths ripped from my lungs, I throw my hands back from inside my pajama pants. I grip the sheets at my buckling hips. "Fuck me, not again.." I mumble, floating back into reality. I lean my head against the wall and mentally kick myself for losing control.
This was becoming a regular occurrence, these thoughts were something sick. They manifested inside my brain, pulling all reality away. I inhale sharply and pull Xanax from the drawer, forcing my body into a euphoric high. I wasn't sure how to deal with these feelings, the meds did.
I step onto the floor with shaky steps, monsters start to arise from the shadows, their roars grow as I step out into the hall. I push past them and flee to the bathroom. The blinding light lets me know this is tangible, soon my temple starts to pulsate in pain. I turn on the shower and strip, barricading myself in the place I liked to call my 'Safe Space'. Stars crash in the world around me. My hearing struggles to block out the sounds of Sara and her lover down the hall.
I struggle to comprehend the world outside my high. It's cruel ways, how it mocked my being at every chance. I look down at my body, and sigh at every impurity I wished to changed. How queer out of two lesbian twins, I still considered myself the gender fuck. It's times like these, I suck on the supple taste of my sarcasm.
Tiny sleep scratches along my upper back sting as the water makes it's way through they're surfaces, I almost trip myself in attempts to itch them. Out side the shower curtains the pills paint picture of myself, looking in the mirror, in the mirror there happens to be another mirror, where another me is looking to another mirror, whose surface revels yet another me looking into another mirror, it continues. I grasp my eyes around the mind rape, I curl up on the porcelain floor and begin to wait for this to wear off. It was predictable.
Two tablets over your prescription could earn you a buzz, things would starts to switch colours, and you might see a mental mind fuck as this one was, but it wasn't anything worth while in doing.
Four pills over your prescription, would earn you a mind bender, images much like the ones I just seen are frequent, every time you step you swear your knees are going to shatter. You don't need to have a twin, because you swear a miniature version of yourself is following you everywhere.
Six or seven over prescription was an overdose, only once had I been so bold enough to try to take my life with something that made it so much easier to live in.
I had only gone two tablets up over the dose prescribed, my short lived high was coming to a close. Here's the thing about crashing, it can either go really fucking good, and you'll end up feeling better than you did before, or it can go bad, and you'll end up taking the rest of the bottle.
I seemed to be coming down at an even pace between the two. A part of me wants to go pop a few more, and stay in this high for a few hours, and the other part of me is two fucking chicken shit that I might possibly have to face the monster in the room beside mine.
So instead I turn the taps of water off, and pull back the curtain. My body floats to the cabinet, I pull out my tooth brush and wash the awful two day old what-ever-the-fuck-I've-been-binging-on-taste from my mouth, and by now you're assuming I'm the strung out crack whore of the twins.
And I'll let you think that, because you're entitled to your opinion. But truth be told, I was just as pathetic as a methamphetamine user, aside from having no dependant need on a substance. I had become so wrapped up in my own little world of infatuation, that I forgot how to act like anything then a clingy five year old brat.
It's been days since I've left the apartment, I fear when Sara leaves, because I know one day, she's not going to come back through those doors. I'm scared her girlfriend will ask her to marry her, and Sara will start a life somewhere else, and I'll be left here to rot under my own self destruction.
I know these are all phobias, and completely irrational, but after spending most of my teenage years wondering if my bodies right, or if it's wrong, or even if there's a way to look for it the way it did in my head, I felt like my thoughts for Sara were the only thing I had that I was sure of, because as of now, everything else about myself was up in the air.
So as much as I seemed like a daily drug user who could care less about anything aside from myself, I was just as much an insecure, self doubting, young adult as your self.
I look at myself in the mirror, once again. A pale, nude body reflecting something I wasn't sure wasn't quiet sure was me greets my vision. I start to weep as I in vision slim lines, where my curvy hips are. My breasts are smaller, barely hitting the A-cup mark. I smile at the image. My face was soft, the barrier between boy and girl was gone. I was just.. me.
"Tegan..?" A voice asks from across the room. I snap out of my thoughts and grab the closet towel.
"Fuck me. Yes Sara?" I turn around to find my blonde haired sister creeping across the tiled floor. Her eyelids are heavy, her body slowly slinks out of her oversized mens shirt. I feel the muscles in my thighs clench. I struggle to keep my thoughts in proper order.
"I did it, she's gone." She whispers, her hazel eyes starting to become a rose pink.
"You did what...?" I say with a forced disgusted grin. She shakes her head and sits on the edge of the wet bathtub.
"I broke up with her, we're done?" I laugh nervously.
"Mid-Fuck? Jeez Sara, I know your not the best at that, but that shit is harsh." She looks at the floor, her thumbs play an endless war with each other, her toes to tap to a beat inside her head.
"Who knew sex helped you come to terms with life changing feelings." I hoist myself up onto the counter, and pull the towel around my body tighter. It presses tight against my breasts, choking me momentarily. I sigh and mentally pity my sister.
"And those are?" She shifts her body over and looks up at me, tears stream from the corners of her eyelids. Her shirt collar slides from her shoulder, a thin bone predominantly rears it;s self from her skin.
"I think I'm in love with someone I shouldn't be." She replied nonchalantly. My heart starts to race, I feel a slight blissfulness. "Tegan, I think I might be in love with you."