Making This Place My Own

So I did. I shifted the contents off to one side and started to organize them, closing my eyes every once and again to remember the order that Rachel had used them so that I could try to recreate it. Remembering over and over again all those failed attempts that Emily had made, all that practice and all that effort and god all that self-doubt. All that insecurity leading her to judge herself harsher than anyone had ever judged her.

All of her insecurities were based around a singular nugget of self-ascribed truth. Emily had grown up surrounded by farm girls who were chased by the boys and none of them had ever chased her, not once they'd all gotten old enough to know what the chasing was really about. They'd avoided her for countless reasons, all different than the reasons they avoided me, but in the end the motivations didn't really matter to her what mattered was the lesson she learned, ingrained into the heart of her.

Emily didn't believe she was worthy of attention. She didn't think that she was pretty enough, beautiful enough, cute enough. She thought she was chunky, thick in all the wrong ways. She thought she was boring and plain and dull and that's why she turned inward and it's part of the reason when she got the first chance she seized it.

To leave. To get away. To wind up someplace where people could judge her all they wanted, but she could at least disappear into the crowd.

I'd done the same thing for the same reasons, couching it in a desire to 'escape the small town' but in actual fact both of us had been searching for the same thing. And it was something that I think everyone searches for, that everyone needs.

Simply put: a place to belong.

But along the way to that discovery I'd discovered something else, something that was undeniable now. Something that I'd seen in the way that men and women looked at her. Something that I'd felt in the way they touched her, wanted her, craved her. Something in the way I did too.

Her hair is wet, in the reflection. Cut short but still long enough that when it's heavy with water it plays in her eyes a little, tickling the bridge of her nose. Dirty brown, edging onto blonde, but darker when wet to the point where it looks almost black and I twist a lock of it before brushing it out of my eyes, taking in the fullness of her face.

My face.

I wanted to be wanted and so did she. Now I wanted myself but I was her and I had to wonder if that was the same thing.

Because I know that, if I saw Emily on the street, she'd turn my head. I'd catch a glimpse of her and she would linger and I'd be tongue-tied, too nervous to actually approach her and certain that she was spoken for because girls that cute and beautiful at the same time always have someone in their lives. Hell, they have a line of them waiting.

She wants acceptance in the world around her, like I did. She found it in me, and I have to wonder if that was enough in its own weird way. I wanted her but I was her and I was starting to accept that there was no real difference between the two of us because it certainly seemed that way right now.

Because when I moved, she moved. Because when I breathed, she breathed. And when I touched she touched and she gasped as I played the tips over my fingers over the skin just above the folds of my towel before twisting it loose and letting it fall from me.

Emily. My dear Emily.

Emily. Me and yet not me.

Emily. So beautiful.

I take in a long and deep breath and I hold it. I watch my body respond as I do that, watching the movement of myself.

The way my breasts, perky and pert, go taut and then tremble at the apex just a little. The way they almost shiver and vibrate as I let it out slow.

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