a. | 25 | queer | oklahoma

tattooed. femme.

storyteller.

grad student.

glitter enthusiast.

corgi mama.

community driven.

child of libraries and dusty books.

 

Scarlett

 If I were to change my name to something else, I would change my name to Scarlett. 

There are plenty of Kaitlyns and Heathers in the world. Healing sick woodland creatures and singing into forests of splendor. There are even enough girls with cocktail waitress names like Bambi, or Cynthia, who walk around leaving their lipstick kisses on hollowed cheeks like lost leaves in a forgotten drain. 

(If that is your name, then I apologize.)

I wouldn’t be a Joan. Joan who is relentless upon the ladder of success, refusing the right to find comfort in privilege. Joan with coffee injected into her veins and ‘just three more miles’ on the treadmill posing as a red badge of courage. No, I would not be her. 

If I were to change my name to something else, I would change my name to Scarlett. 

For Scarlett was the way I loved you. 

I’ve been many names over the years to handfuls of people and situations. In kindergarden, I was Harriet, the girl who raised her hand first to answer every question. Fully embodying 13, I was Rachel. Welding cattiness and superiority as my tools, I became a physician of girlhood, mapping out each victim’s weakness and breaking my code of honor with every secret I gained. In high school I was Caroline, bright and naive. Taking shots of vodka and drags of stranger’s cigarettes in college, I was Megan. Singing breathy cabaret tunes into a microphone in front of tired businessmen and lonesome divorcees, I was Gabriella. 

But when I woke in the morning, reaching for your body to hold, 

I was Scarlett. 

As Scarlett, I was fingertips gently brushing across your arm, my touch making your breath catch and your chest tremble. I was lingering kisses down your spine, each one becoming an oasis on the dry desert of your body. Ridges holding countless secrets, and sand-ridden valleys with scars that you refused to mention, I was the explorer of your kingdom of regret. I was the rain you so desperately wanted, as well as the nourishment you fought so hard against. I wanted to shelter the refugees of your memory. Yet like a dictator you held them captive, tightly grasping the ones that that you hated the most. 

If I were to change my name to something else, I would change my name to Scarlett. 

For Scarlett was the way I loved you. 

As Lady S, I was no princess locked away in a hidden tower, nor a warrior queen seeking revenge for her slaughtered tribe. I was something in the middle. I was the representative of my womanhood, lobbying for my right for respect in lands that refused to entertain such ideas. I was scared, and I was power. I held relics of forgotten emotions, summoning spirits of feeling that you denied audience. I took your confession with passionate earnestness, and gave you my blessing with the tears of my existence. 

If I were to change my name to something else, I would change my name to Scarlett. 

For Scarlett was the way I loved you. 

When you smiled, I was Scarlett. 

When you first shook my hand, I was Scarlett. 

When your lips sought the company of mine, I was Scarlett. 

When we fought late that one winter night, I was Scarlett. 

When I ignored your phone calls of apology, I was Scarlett. 

For that was the way I loved you. 

Reconciling, I was Scarlett.

Painting the kitchen together, I was Scarlett. 

Laughing at the late night psychic on TV, I was Scarlett. 

Dancing slowly to your awful jazz, I was Scarlett. 

Holding you close, even when your mind was miles away, I was Scarlett. 

Clinging to the crumbling pillar of us, I was Scarlett. 

Listening to you tell me there was someone else, I was Scarlett. 

Refusing to entertain your enlightened ideas of renewal, I was Scarlett. 

For that was the way I loved you.

Walking away, I was Scarlett. 

Gently placing your key in your hand, I was Scarlett. 

Negating your pleas to stay, I was Scarlett. 

Knowing that loving you meant walking away, I was Scarlett. 

Closing the door without looking back, I was Scarlett. 

If I were to change my name to something else, I would change my name to Scarlett. 

For Scarlett was the way I loved you. 

  1. ydontyoumarryanicecreamsandwich reblogged this from betterfailings and added:
    ALL THE FEELS.
  2. cogitoergoblog said: As a Caroline, and as an appreciator of good prose, I enjoyed this very much. :)
  3. betterfailings posted this

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