The full moon illuminated the sky on another Saturday night. She walked down the street with her purse in her left hand, and a diamond ring sparkled on her third finger in the moonlight; a skin tight dress stuck to her body and five inch heels that even when intoxicated, years of practice allowed her to hold her balance perfectly in. On her right side was a man whose name she probably wouldn't remember in the morning, a name she probably had forgotten to ask for. It was just another Saturday night, just like her Fridays.
Left, then right, left, then right, don't forget to breathe. This was the mantra that remained on repeat in her mind, she just had to keep moving, keep going, keep living. She had never wanted this to be her life. The partying, the drinking, the lying, it was something she swore she would never do again, someone she promised to never become again. Cheating, sneaking around behind her husband's back, it wasn't something she planned, but it happened time and time again, and now, she just went along with it because at this point, she was a broken record trying to get to the next verse, the right verse, but remaining on repeat.
She sat on the uncomfortable bar stool, and kept telling herself it was the last drink, and then she would go home. She would go home to the possessions she was supposed to want, to the guy she was (used to be) sure she loved, to the life she was expected to live. The only problem in this world of perfection was that she didn't – couldn't, fit in. With her long, untamed, wavy, bedhead hair and free-spirited ways, her everyday jeans hanging on her hips and her haphazard outfits, she stuck out for being amazingly different in a way she was praised for to her face and scandalously whispered about when people thought she was out of hearing range, and she never even meant to be. Married into, adopted into this place where she was to be the perfect girl, and play the perfect wife. That was exactly what it seemed her days had turned into, a play. Luckily, she knew the story well: she was to be a lady, a girl who didn't forget to keep her legs crossed when sitting in her summer dresses, a girl who spoke about the Ivy's and her future, a girl who had never even thought to run when things got tough. A made up and extravagant dramatization, that looked great in the Christmas cards she sent out every year, like her mother had when she was a child, but were cracked and flawed without the professional edit. She was her mother's daughter.
Blair had once told her she took everything, and God she was right. She took Nate, she took Yale, she took Constance, and she took the celebrity, but the worst part was that she didn't even want any of it. She wanted lazy days in Santorini, legs uncrossed at weddings with champagne flowing and her (always her) Natie. She wanted crazy parties, and for her father to call, and maybe every once in a while for her mother not to marry the man who proposed to her. But she was Serena van der Woodsen, and she got everything, good or bad. Blair had always been the better friend in most people's perspective, willing to do anything, willing to lie, cheat, steal if she had to, all for Serena. It seemed all Serena did lie, cheat and steal from Blair. But there were things people didn't see. It seemed gossip girl missed it when Serena let Blair turn in her projects because she had forgotten about them while scheming for the crown of Constance. It seemed Nate forgot that she had let Blair have him first, and that she only wanted a turn, just once, it seemed all good on the inside of her was forgotten, traded in for a more appealing image of evil under sunshine hair and coy smiles.
Left then right, left then right, don't forget to breathe.
She realized they were coming to a building, and the guy was leading her towards the entrance. It was a beautiful place. It wasn't a place she would normally be in awe of – it was run of the mill. There weren't many guys she had met who hadn't promised her the world with their lips pressed against her neck, and with a breathy oh on her own, only to leave her lonely by morning. But she was a Rhodes woman, and Lily had taught her well. Love comes, and love goes, but it would never be constant, and she would take it in the form of intoxicated declarations that only one person in the room would remember come sunrise. She may miss the smell of expensive pot and locker rooms. She may miss the taste of bitter coffee and ink stained fingers. She may remember the haze that she was so desperately determined to spend her life in a constant state of in high school, and every once in a while she can feel the immature and unsteady hands of a young Bass begging for just one time.
Left, then right, left then right, just don't forget to breathe.
There were things the world didn't know, things she didn't know. But as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, some truths rang through her mind. She had become a person she swore she would never be, and she finally realized, that maybe this new person, or rather a very old, familiar one, was better equipped for the lies and the secrecy. This person could do exactly what had become routine once again, as soon as she took off her over the top ring and placed it in her purse, hoping that it wouldn't feel so heavy within its confines. She had accepted a long time ago that she was Serena van der Woodsen, and she got everything she wanted in life except the things that mattered, and that was okay. Even if the world refused to forget her, she still craved the moments where she could forget herself…
And bar stools, journals, scarves, and hierarchy.
Left, then right, left then right, just don't forget to breathe.