Welcome to The Nikki Memoirs
Nikki Part I
I knew that she needed me the moment I stepped foot into her life. She was a creature of a different species. Only one person could balance her the way that she needed. She needed a life saver, a confidence booster, an ego caresser, and that person was me. I was not meant to be in her life until the end of time. I didn’t know how long I was supposed to be visible to the eye, how long my footprints would stretch across her brain, or how long my scent would linger in her world. I was not in this for love and affection; I was in this as a simple favor. Instead of keeping me as just her cushion for comfort, she made me fall in love with her. Every time she sent me away packing, she drug me back into her life at her selfish convenience. When will my contract end? How long do I have to baby-sit her insecurities and hold her hand through everything she doesn’t want to walk through alone? I have to find a way to escape her grip. My duty calls elsewhere. I have another life to save.
For now I am here with her. Things have been pretty bumpy since we met. Our emotional love rollercoaster is an unpredictable one. There are times when I am a part of her everyday routine. Not a night goes by that I am not in her arms. Then there are times when months can go by and she doesn’t think of me or let my name slip from her tongue. I am forgotten and I am not needed. Things are different with her. Normally when I am neglected, I don’t let it phase me, because I know that it comes along with the occupation description. This time I feel something. Could it be what they call jealousy? I know I’ve made many enemies that have wanted to gut me like a fish, because I felt these certain individuals were getting too close to her heart. All I do is laugh, because no harm can be done to something you can’t touch right? Ha; the jokes on them. I know it and she knows it. I am a skeleton in her closet that only comes out when the time is right.
“Who is she?” is what the outsiders ask time and time again. “When can I meet her?” is what they desire after my presence is accepted. "How come she is never around?” is what they wonder. So who am I? I am whatever the insiders want me to be. Just like everyone else, I have a story. It’s said that I grew up in a normal household. Raised by two loving parents with a healthy marriage. Daddy had more money than one could imagine and mama had more imagination than that one just mentioned. My life has been labeled as perfect; personality, body, face, career, salary, home and friends. I am perfect. I couldn’t mess up if I tried, because I am what they make me. My life is lived on strings and they are my puppet masters. My background only goes back so far, perhaps my next encounter will add on to my pencil written story. So many of my memories have been erased; from siblings, to pets, to lifestyles, to religions. Although I have been stable for the past three years, who knows when my strings will be snipped and I’ll have to hop in my cutlass supreme and drift into the next world.
There is just one thing stopping me. I have been trying to figure it out for quite some time now. I have been having this annoying thumping, burning and eerie feeling in my chest. It starts to hurt every time I think about leaving. The pain seems too much to bear. When I think of her leaving me, I get angry. I do things that I know aren’t right. My mind is telling me to go and that it has been time to go; for she is happy now. My job is done. But that thumper in my chest is telling me to stay and I will let all hell break loose if she tries to stray.
Oh, what’s my name? Well I’ve gone by many and have stolen the identities of plenty, but she calls me “Nikki”.
For now I am here with her. Things have been pretty bumpy since we met. Our emotional love rollercoaster is an unpredictable one. There are times when I am a part of her everyday routine. Not a night goes by that I am not in her arms. Then there are times when months can go by and she doesn’t think of me or let my name slip from her tongue. I am forgotten and I am not needed. Things are different with her. Normally when I am neglected, I don’t let it phase me, because I know that it comes along with the occupation description. This time I feel something. Could it be what they call jealousy? I know I’ve made many enemies that have wanted to gut me like a fish, because I felt these certain individuals were getting too close to her heart. All I do is laugh, because no harm can be done to something you can’t touch right? Ha; the jokes on them. I know it and she knows it. I am a skeleton in her closet that only comes out when the time is right.
“Who is she?” is what the outsiders ask time and time again. “When can I meet her?” is what they desire after my presence is accepted. "How come she is never around?” is what they wonder. So who am I? I am whatever the insiders want me to be. Just like everyone else, I have a story. It’s said that I grew up in a normal household. Raised by two loving parents with a healthy marriage. Daddy had more money than one could imagine and mama had more imagination than that one just mentioned. My life has been labeled as perfect; personality, body, face, career, salary, home and friends. I am perfect. I couldn’t mess up if I tried, because I am what they make me. My life is lived on strings and they are my puppet masters. My background only goes back so far, perhaps my next encounter will add on to my pencil written story. So many of my memories have been erased; from siblings, to pets, to lifestyles, to religions. Although I have been stable for the past three years, who knows when my strings will be snipped and I’ll have to hop in my cutlass supreme and drift into the next world.
There is just one thing stopping me. I have been trying to figure it out for quite some time now. I have been having this annoying thumping, burning and eerie feeling in my chest. It starts to hurt every time I think about leaving. The pain seems too much to bear. When I think of her leaving me, I get angry. I do things that I know aren’t right. My mind is telling me to go and that it has been time to go; for she is happy now. My job is done. But that thumper in my chest is telling me to stay and I will let all hell break loose if she tries to stray.
Oh, what’s my name? Well I’ve gone by many and have stolen the identities of plenty, but she calls me “Nikki”.
*Straight from a page of your favorite author*
W0rd Hustlin' Inc © 2007-2008
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That was real good...keep them coming
nice writing. i enjoyed the read. it sounds like "nikki" has her hands full with this particular woman.
Unique and Don, thank you for the reading. I plan on posting "Nikki" on Thursdays probably. So stay tuned. =)