Velouria (velouria) wrote,
Velouria
velouria

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It's hard to believe we need a place called Hell.

I often wonder what another soul would have done in my body.

I picture a girl with shinier hair and straightened teeth. She weighs a little more. She's a little tanner. She went to her high school prom with her basketball playing boyfriend and later off to college in southern California. She lived in the dorm with all her girlfriends and there's dozens of pictures of her with them, smiling. She's not the prettiest one of them, but it doesn't matter.

She doesn't think as much as she lives. She graduated college this year and now she's student teaching in Santa Barbara. In five years she's engaged to a man who loves her and she loves him. He's a newly started English Professor at the University of San Diego. He's 32.

They have a beautiful wedding in a Catholic church. The reception ends in the wee hours of the morning with the two of them on the beach in the moonlight, drinking wine. There's a picture of it above the fireplace in their two story home in the heart of the city. She bores her two brunette children, Joel and Jessica with tales of how they met before they fall asleep each night.

Joel and Jessica bore their children with the same stories twenty years later at the family Christmas dinner. But what's a little boredom now and then.

I don't want a crack at anyone else's body, because I know I'd just ruin it again. But sometimes I wish someone else had gotten mine.
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