Suzy

Suzy boxes. And Mostafa does yoga. And they're not together anymore.
She stands in front of the punching bag, and beats everything inside of
her, out into it. Her small fists leave marks in the soft black
punching bag, moulding itself to her hands. But after a few minutes,
the marks she made are gone, the bag sways from side to side before it
falls back into place. And it's as though she was never there.

I wonder what Suzy thinks about while she's boxing. I'm always
wondering what other people are thinking. And never concentrate enough
on my own thoughts. Is she thinking about the man who throws out lewd
insults at her as she walks past the gas station, on her way to school?
Is she thinking about her best friend whose not her best friend
anymore? Is she thinking about her ex-boyfriend? I'll never know. She
has her hair pulled back, and her face is turning red from the effort.
She looks tired. Tired of trying to conform to something that just
doesn't fit. Like those jeans she tried to squeeze into, but they were
too small. That's what her life feels like. It's too small. She can't
stretch her arms out, can't reach the place she wants to be. But that's
not going to stop her from trying.

Suzy left Mostafa a few years ago. I'm not even sure how many exactly.
And part of her regrets the decision. But it was a decision she took.
And he's moved on. And she doesn't like that. Part of him keeps taking
a step back, and he confuses her, but she won't admit it. She stands
tall, looks him straight in the eye, and pretends not to care. But
that's just it. She does care. More than she'll ever admit. Even to
herself. And when he tells her he's taken up yoga, she laughs, although
deep inside, she's thinking how sensitive he can seem sometimes. But
instead, she makes fun of him. And it's his turn to pretend that he
doesn't care.

Mostafa has a new girlfriend now. And his face lights up like a little
child whenever she calls. He even does this stupid baby-voice when he
talks to her. It makes me kinda sick. And I'm always about to make fun
of him, but then I remember how my ex used to talk to me on the phone,
and I stop the words before they come out of my mouth. I didn't really
like it when he talked that exact same way to me, but never said
anything cause I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I wonder if
Mostafa's new girlfriend cringes every time he talks to her like that.
I think she does. We all do. But Suzy would probably have just told him
to shut up and talk to her like a real man. But then again... I'm not
so sure. Cause there's this side to Suzy, that likes the colour pink, a
side to Suzy that cries when she bleeds, and is vulnerable and scared.
But she doesn't show that side to anyone. I've never seen it. But I
think it's there. The little girl who desperately wants to be accepted,
and in the same breath, wants to tell the world to fuck off cause she
can make it on her own. The little girl with a bruised knee and no one
who understands that the pain in her heart hurts so much more.

And I want to tell Suzy, I understand. Cause I have a scar on my
forehead that everyone thinks still hurts. But it's just like Suzy's
bruised knee. I can't feel the pain, cause my heart hurts more. Cause
my heart was broken too. But I don't even know if Suzy wants my
understanding.

Cause I'll never know what Suzy is thinking.