I've been fighting it for over two weeks now. I did my best not to think of it, trying not to let my mind wander down that path that I hate so much and yet yearn so much. I've spent nights, lying in my bed, reading, watching TV, doing anything to keep the need out of my mind. And while trying to distract myself, I knew I would lose, I knew I would do it again.
I stood in front of this mirror yesterday already, but yesterday, I managed to turn away and fight my inner demon one more time. But as I stand in front of my mirror now, I know I am losing the fight and I hate myself for it. I always lose it. No matter how much I tried, no matter how many sessions I had with my therapist. I watch myself apply mascara to my lashes, giving them the darkness and length to complete the sultry look of my green eyes, a look I know will catch their attention.
I put lipstick on, the dark red, sinful one, that complements the red of my shoulder-long hair. I put my glasses on the counter under my makeup mirror. The world will be hazy now, but that's okay. It will be dark wherever I go, and I know I will feel better if the memories are hazy as well.
On my way to my apartment's door, I stop briefly and look at myself in the mirror that hangs next to the door. I look at the red-haired woman, dressed in a short white dress that clings to her skin. The open back of it makes it clear to everybody that I am not wearing a bra. The 7-inch high heels accentuate my curvy ass and I know that the low cut-back of the dress that almost exposes the dark valley between the firm cheeks will guide the eyes to it even more.
"Whore" I whisper to myself as I look at the woman in the mirror and I shiver as a voice in my mind disagrees, telling me that I am not a whore, that it is not my fault. I lock the apartment behind me, hearing the voice snicker.
And as I enter the street, I know that I will hate myself tomorrow.
-o-
The lights are flashing, exposing moving and grinding bodies in stroboscopic explosions of light, bodies that gyrate to the rhythm of the loud music as they perform the age-old ritual. I'm in the middle of the whirling mass, the drums vibrating through my soul as I dance with closed eyes, trying to repress the need that brought me here. And yet I feel their presence around me, I feel the eyes and the unspoken question as they stare at my moving body, the thin dress the only thing between my flesh and the hungry eyes.