Virgoing, Virgoing, Gone
Zoditraxx Crossover Part 2: Lunaticks #2 | Read Time: 5 Min
Her tennis shoes pong-ponged off the damp pavement. An indecisive atmosphere swung between a damp fogging mist and a light spritzing. Annabella could feel the soft fabric of her trainers absorbing the cold, soaking her socks. She hadn't made the best choice selecting her shoes. Truth told, she'd been making a lot of bad choices lately.
A neighbour waved and she smiled with a mannered nod. The volume of her music increased. Her pace quickened. If she could drown in sound, if she could change the pain held in her heart and head to a burn in her legs, or a suffocating grip on her lungs and sprint her spirit through to the blissing abyss of a runner's high, perhaps, she could escape. Free herself from this compounding mess.
The crosswalk cut to a blinking halting hand as Annabella reached the curb. Hurrying commuters hurtled homeward through the busy intersection. In welcomed company with the rest of the year's intentions another plan shattered. Annabella's anxiety gave no time for pause, she pivoted, and ran parallel. Her path forward zagged with the lights, following the greens.
Annabella's skin prickled and itched as sweat fought to permeate through. Her hair bounced and brushed across her back. Everything irritated. Every driver, every face, every thought that slipped by her guarded mind.
The hanging mist mixed with sweat across her brow. Combined droplets stung her eyes. Annabella lifted the hem of her shirt to wipe it away but the effort was futile. The stinging stayed, her discomfort rose. She kept pushing forward, there would be bliss, there had to be, and she sprinted for it.
So much effort wasted. Every ounce to helping, every attempt, sabotaged by those she was trying to help. Reality's toll was climbing. She couldn't trust anyone to do anything, and she needed to. She needed someone. As much as Annabella wished it wasn't so, she couldn't do it all alone, her reach was finite.
She couldn't even trust her little feet. Over a small lift in the sidewalk her steps stumbled. Annabella caught her tumbling toes after a few yards, sparing herself from the rough pavement. She took pause, her first break in over an hour. The street was so familiar. In those seconds of heavy breaths, realization melted, and recognition dawned. She hadn't been in this neighbourhood in some time. She'd been avoiding it. Caught her in dizzying sprints she'd unknowingly ran back to a house that had once been home.
The same walkway.
The same tree.
The same door.
Parked in their old driveway, sat the car that haunted every parking lot, and every lane of oncoming traffic. The phantom that lived everywhere and nowhere. Whose colour graffitied her heart-aching peripherals.
She was a mess. Physically, mentally. Yet, here she was.
In a trance her feet carried her forward like a marionette. Annabella was powerless to a subconscious will. Despite her reluctance, she surrendered, she had to trust something. She had to trust that her higher self knew a move beyond her rational mind.
It had been years since Annabella spoke to her. Years since the hurts collapsed communication. The falling out, the distance. Behind the curtains the tv glowed. She was there. Right there. Tucked behind double paned glass, and a thin sheet of fabric. Living, breathing, not calling, just as Annabella had not been calling.
The schism has been ruthless. Their peeling slow, and excruciating, until under a torrent they'd torn away. Only recently did clarity arrive to Annabella. An annoying tarot card pulled on a lark. Followed by a timely chance conversation, on an unrelated podcast when the topic shifted from nonsense gossip in the entertainment world to profound forgiveness, and the speakers became mirrors. The parts of her own failed approaches became magnified, a bitter pill, a refelt hurt. The shattering of a righteous identity built around perfection, and flawlessness.
Levels of her resentment still towered, but their scaffolding was shaking. Understanding had begun to dismantle the framework. Every few days a new lynch pin shook loose. The falls were as slow and steady as they were relentless. Until disappointment and embarrassment filled the vessels that were once occupied by disbelief, bitterness, and rage. Now Annabella saw how she could have better handled things, even before there had been problems. It wasn't that she shouldered all the blame, but more, shame that she'd run. Not only from the most profound of connections, but from her higher self, from the deepest parts, from the unconditional ocean within.
After a lifetime spent learning lessons of forgiveness, carrying the weight of caring, Annabella was exhausted. Lingering hurt from the demise painted looming ideas of rebalancing and reconciling like unnecessary burdens. She couldn't help but wince at the synchronicity of arriving at this door during a desperate attempt of self love, of self care, looking after her own health, running to reduce the anxiety of her newest catastrophe. When would it all end? Why did she have to continually reflect and confront these nonsensical obscenities?
Above the clouds opened and rain poured. Annabella took shelter under their old awning, and sat upon the familiar stairs. From her pocket she pulled her phone, quieted the music, and listened to the drops dance on the roof above. She could hear the audio from tv, and knew the beats, knew the film. Their old favourite. The world winked again as the muffled lines from her favourite scene tumbled towards her.
There was nothing to lose. A knock on a door. An awkward conversation. Maybe a little embarrassment, and another push away. Maybe waiting arms. Either outcome would be acceptable, would be a win. Paired with the previous realizations, Annabella couldn't walk away with her head held high. As hard as she tried she couldn't lie to herself about doing her absolute best. Did she have more to give? Yes. Could she still be understanding, could she atone for the, while they felt very reasonable at the times, less than loving reactions she'd had? Yes. Was life spent apart from one another as good as days together? The painful, stark truth, was no. Under the old narrative, the one where Annabella had demonized her, they had. But now, swimming within the recognitions of her own faults in conjunction with the new found depths of what was within her to give, Annabella wasn't so sure.
Her fingers moved, the message flew. From the other side of the window she heard the buzz from a phone on vibrate. The film paused. After a beat of 30 seconds her text was answered by a call.
Annabella's ringtone roared. She wasn't the only one who heard it. Her intuition held her in place before she could bolt . The curtain pulled, and on the other side was that long lost face, wide eyed and pleading, illuminated from the glow of the calling phone.
Annabella answered. On the other side of the line a voice trembled. "Don't go."
Thanks for reading! Be sure to check out the previous 12 part collection of Zoditraxx, and consider the other side of subtle dualities.
-Mr. Write
PS: Be sure to check out Exaggerated Shadow’s new release for Virgoing, Virgoing, Virgone on all your favourite streaming platforms!