Under the Layers and Lies - The Synopsis

It occurred to me that I desperately need a hobby and I seem to love to talk about myself; ponder over the greatness and weaknesses of being me.
My name is irrelevant, truth be told, so is my story. I shall warn you before you even start that my memory lapses and not even I am aware of what is reality and what is the simple illusion that goes on in mind; what I want to believe I am, what I want to believe happened.

I fancy myself different, but maybe that itself is proof that I am exactly the same as all those other lousy upper class teenagers, that have everything but are too spoilt to acknowledge it; and worse crave problems and unhappiness, rather than sitting back and being ‘thankful’ for everything… I grasp at problems to call my own like some crazy drug addict grasps at any opportunity for drugs. Interesting, maybe problems are my drug.

That at least is something I like to be proud of. No matter the greatness of my boredom and all of my parents’ money, I had never felt appealed to turn to drugs to fill in that void inside of me –but it is more complicated than that, maybe at the end of this you’ll understand.

You see I have two personalities that live deep inside of me. The former is the “real me” and with her lies the reality in which my life drags along in its monotonous colors. We shall call her the “little me”. This girl is shy, unconfident, studious, and way too much of a volunteer and a people pleaser for her own good.

But then, there is this other side of me; call her my “alter ego” if you wish, she is probably the one responsible for me writing this in the first place, she lives in an alternative universe where all that matters is her indulging self-importance…she is strong, sexy and confident, and I love her. I love it when she incorporates me.

Hell, I love the little high that I get every time that evil woman, and yes notice how she is a woman and I am yet a girl, slips into my high heels and spends hours in front of the mirror admiring herself. This girl is so different to me that a hardly believe that she is part of me.

After you have understood my schizophrenic nature you will understand my story a bit better. You see, the girl and the woman inside of me have lived different lives, experienced different things. It is true that their lives often interlock, but there are things that I have done that she has not, and plenty of experiences that she has had that I could not even dream in having.

This little game started like any other, I was never a popular little kid and I spent way too much time in the “imaginary friend” territory. It started when I was very little one day as I took the bus to school. I would be sitting in the bus next to my sister and outside there she would be, this incredible super woman, taking the skateboard to school – unimaginably awesome techniques, even at the age of 6 or 7 she amazed me, but I controlled her movements then, now things have gotten slightly out of hand… it has come to a point where I almost cannot separate her life from mine, I do not know where I end and she begins and because of that I cannot truly say that I have never gotten involved with drugs.

She has had a tough life. Her sweetheart - maybe the only guy she has ever loved died in a car accident a few years ago… she was young and naïve then and believed in true love. I still do.

Andre’s car crashed due to a horrible drunk driving incident. His friend who was driving survived, Andre didn’t. She never forgave herself for not stopping him from getting in the car, for not getting in the car herself with him, and neither could his friend Rodrigo. The year after that was tough - heavy smoking, drinking and some involvement with drugs… her grades sunk and she sent to see the school shrink, Joyce, for ‘rage issues’. She would ran away from home and wake up the next morning with little memory of what happened the night before, not knowing exactly where she was, but seeing Rodrigo’s familiar face somewhere around her, his face buried in cocaine, gave her some sense of reassurance. They became very close friends, bonding over their loss and sense of guilt. Andre’s death had made them realize that life was way too short not to be taken advantage of.

They made a list; filled with things they had never done - with things they were still to do. And with that, the year dragged on, thousands of fun nights, thousands of things being crossed out from their “bucket list”… Their life was good, great, how couldn’t it be? Their theme song was New Order’s “Guilt is a Useless Emotion” and that was their motto, hers at least… But then, Rodrigo OD’ed and his mother send him to rehab. She got scared and with that followed a horrible year of cleaning her crap up with no one to help or listen to her - but me.

I admired her strength and courage and I did my best to help her. It’s funny that I was the one to do this, seeing as I am so weak and she is so strong. She is so sure of herself and I cannot even tell when my reality stops and her begins. I know that I have tried cigarettes and some weed and came very very close to trying some cocaine, occasionally flirting with the idea of taking some ‘x’…. just a little ‘x’ to loosen up. But again, I do not know if that was me, or if that was her possessing me, the druggie in her trying to live through me. It has come to a point where I don’t even know the reality anymore; I am stuck in this dystopian universe.

Ecstasy. – The word itself means thrill, elation happiness, it seemed right that that was ‘her drug’. It certainly explained why at one point she was so well and at the other her universe came crashing down.

Maybe it was my morals that kept me away, maybe it was the fact that she had experienced that horrible incident with drugs and battled so much to get over it and regain her parents’ confidence, and I had heard all of her stories… I didn’t want to live through that; I already had somehow lived through it by her.

I love her so much, she hates me… But all we have is ourselves. She learns how to cope and I believe I am the most blessed girl in the world to have her, to watch her, to have her seize power and become me, even for the slightest seconds before the little coward that I am regains consciousness and pushes that amazing woman out of me.

I guess somehow this is a horrible attempt in telling both of our stories. I always loved stories, that’s how it all begun, how she begun. This is the story of the horrible girl I think I am, interlocked with this amazing woman I could have been, creating, I guess, under all the layers and lies, who I truly am. – This is the story of me.