A wilted lily stood at the centre of the room, staring me down like it had for 2 weeks. “MUM! Can we go already?” My daughter asked, prodding me with her finger. I looked at her and felt a warmth pulse through me. How did I manage to have a daughter? ”Sorry, honey, I was just in a daze. Let’s go.“ I scoop her up but take one last look at the lily, the twenty year old lily that started wilting two weeks ago. Daisy, my daughter, was telling me about how she had a big project at school today that she wanted to show me. I followed her into her classroom, her tiny footsteps like drops of rain on the ground, I wondered how I could be so lucky. If life was a lottery, I won the day I had my Daisy. She opened the door and there you were. Six years later. Rough beard, messy hair, tired eyes, aged. There you were. I look at my Daisy and then at her father, the one who gave me a lily that would as long as he loved me, who left me because he loved me, who stands here because he no longer loves me. No wonder the lily had died, he was finally moving on. “Prim, I’m back.“ I felt like replying “no shit Sherlock” but I held my tongue. I hated him. “Leave.“ I replied. He had no place in my world, not after he had destroyed me six years ago. He was a monster. His love was poison. “You have no place in my world after that night. You will never have a place here.” I told him, he stared at me. “I’m here for my daught-“ ”She is not your daughter. You signed away all rights remember? You left me, with no money and no one so that you could ‘control‘ me. You will never be her father, get out.“ His eyes were filled with pain but I knew the monster underneath that pain. I knew this would happen the day the lily began to age. However, I had also grown and aged, I will never let him bring down the world I had built without him.

Once a year they gather around me with flowers and candles and presents. Once a year they remember me, they rest of the year they try to forget me. Once a year, I remember who I was and what I've lost, as they come by one at a time and talk to me. This year, they came by with a new member, my name on hers, as they show me her small face, hands, eyes. I tear up, unable to move or touch her, Her small hands reach out to me and I feel my tears fall to the ground as I float above my grave. I hate this horrible day, the only day I am remembered. I wish they would all forget, whenever they remember my heart breaks with theirs. They talk about the life I would have had, one filled with the love and laughter I remember, and the tales of my past adventures. They talk and talk as they gather around a slab of concrete with writing on it and discuss me more than they ever did when I was alive. It makes me hate death more than I already do, the fact that I can't live these wonderful memories with them, the fact that they won't ever forget me now, not with her name, the fact that I love that they loved me. My sister laughs as she brings out cruisers, the only alcohol I could stomach, and all the adults down one each and laugh. My mother pulls out a thermos filled with two minute noodles, the ones I loved to sneakily eat, everyone takes out a bowl and a fork they brought with them and they all eat. I made them promise to do this every year, and they never break their promises. Then, halfway through the noodles, my father starts to cry, just like every year, my sister holds his hand, my mother hides her face. They all break down one at a time and sob, and all I can do is watch - crying - as they mourn me again. I thought time was supposed to heal this pain but it hasn't. "She was taken too young" they say and I feel it, of course I feel it, I was the one who died. They didn't have to see the world move on and keep turning, see other people achieve what I could have, see awards accepted on my behalf, see my name disappear from the mouths of my friends. They can only wonder and discuss how 'she had so much to live for' as if I chose to die. Year after year, I am reminded on the life I am missing out on, and year after year I realise the tormen will never end. Not until everyone else is gone. Not until they've joined me. Year after year, I hope they don't join me for a long, long time.

I grab a brush and dab it into the pastel brown powder before bringing it to my face. Every stroke, spray and swipe was filled with purpose, that purpose being beauty. Tonight was a battle no one could prepare me for, it was the battle that stood the test of time and the only thing in the way of my happiness. It was the third date. Now, to most, the third day was simply another date, but this date is where everything goes awry for me. They start expecting things from me, things I can’t deliver, things that make me shiver, things that require vulnerability. They expect me to talk about myself… ugh. I always find the good ones, the ones that want to know more about me rather than talk all night about themselves - something I would prefer. I decided to change things up tonight, I won’t stand small in the face of adversity. No, instead, I shall bloom like Mulan did, even if our battles were different. The look was perfect, the night was young, I opened the door and greeted his smile with my own. The couch was set up, Netflix was on, I wasn’t going to talk much tonight. No, I was going to make him watch a brilliant movie and his mind will be far from me, his thoughts shall never turn to me. Fight Club played and I sighed happily as he devoured the movie, mansplaining it to me like I was a child. The situation was handled, there would be no more dates, as per usual, the third date is the last date. He didn’t turn to me like someone once did and ask for my opinions, he didn’t make my heart flutter, he simply stared at Brad Pitt and let his own heart wander instead. He left before 12, I was too tired, you see, and I lay alone in my bed, wondering why I waste my time with these pointless endeavors. Wonder and stare at the photo of us, days before you left us all forever.

This is Video’s submission btw lmao. It’s not often that you find someone you love, so when you do, they say fall. Fall into that love as quickly and forcefully as you can, just fall and trust with everything you have and forget every worry. So, I fell. Falling into the abyss-like hell of loving you, it’s too bad forever is only three months long nowadays. I think I saw you first, with your perfect hair, teeth, eyes, sitting by yourself like you’re the main character of a fan-fiction written by a child, reading. Your hair in a stupid messy bun, you sat and read whilst occasionally pulling strands of your hair behind your ear. I knew in that moment, I needed to talk to you at least once. So I went up to you, I started the conversation, you used your wiles as bait and I was hooked. For three months you tethered me along, with your “I love you”s and your “I miss you” but never “you’re my girlfriend” never “I hope you’re my forever“. Like a lost puppy, I ignored the giant glowing red flags and went with it and you played with my love like a dog does with its toys. I’m mangled and torn up by the violence of your betrayal. Your tone changed when a prettier woman came through, one who was better at loving you and being loved by you than I ever was. So, now, I sit here, bitter and cold as you drain my life of joy and burn it into ashes. My three month love, my big mistake, you are one I will never make again.