intermezzo writing study
writing in the style of sally rooney’s intermezzo
a drunken text, she would call it. raise her shoulders when you ask how many drinks she’s had. haven’t counted. not slurring her words, just inhaling one cigarette after another. in the smokers area. table and stools damp from the rain. wood so soft she scrapes away bits of it with her fingernails. sitting on top of her jacket - let it absorb the wet first. eyebrow aching where it got pierced earlier that day. tingling sensation, light shooting pain spreading outwards through the face. looks up signs of nerve damage - heard you could be paralysed from it.
can’t help but run into people these days. getting out more, recognising mutuals only to say nothing for fear of pained silence. feigned recognition, ah yes i remember now, how are you. a conversation worse than just ignoring them. not important anyway. she’s used to being the one who notices. so uncomfortable in her own body and hyperaware of surroundings. no one can slip past. feels like having to constantly cater to some gaze. to look desirable because someone might be watching. it’s a performance she’s well versed in. tiring, extremely so. laughs with other neurotic friends about cameras in their bedrooms - that time she thought someone bugged her bag; trauma from watching spy kids and the idea of cameras so small you can’t see them. psychotic from a young age, funny story to tell to strangers.
in the bathroom now, men’s line shorter so waiting next to unused urinals. club full of lesbians anyway. bathroom only good for 3 minute sex and throwing up. talks to a girl waiting behind. exchange compliments, where did you get this, that tattoo really suits you. polite laughter. give your instagram only to never speak again. awkward smile as you leave. what is there to be said?
going to the bar to meet friends, bag slack on her side. jacket puffy and cold. meet us at the park and the group splits. one more dance turns into three. music too good to stop. saying i love you to people you’ve met twice. quintessential experience of being 19. holding hands as you twist through a crowd of people. intimate yet thoughtless. don’t lose me.
cold night air - light sprinkling in the early hours of the morning. sky is dark, moon is bright. try to take a photo but the camera could never compare. resigns to rely on the memory of it. a draft of a text forming under moonlight. chew on fruity nic gum and think. should i, shouldn’t i. rumination like this every night for weeks. waited for the moment of least mental resistance. lack brain function, running on empty. photos app flashing images of them on the screen. defenses down. told another girl not to do the same thing. her situation different, sure. maybe not enough.
press send and pray. read it out to the council. positive humming all around. seen two minutes ago. then six. then forty. get in the uber alone, smelling like perfume and sweat and smoke. is the driver looking at the road or his lap, can’t lean forward enough to see anyway. not ready to die on a random wednesday night. too insignificant a death. no passion. unnerving need to make it mean something, sickening really.