I once knew this girl named Chaudie

She was a real character.

Depending on the occasion, her hair could be black like night, or blonde like fine moon spun twine. No matter what, you could see a stream of rainbow colors flowing from the base. She’s black of course, but with her demeanor and actions, you can’t really categorize her in the usual stereotypes. Her deep skin color and curvy shape would have men jumping at the stance for a date. Too bad she’s taken.

Usually she’s all prim and proper. Not a hair out of place, looking like she walked out of the salon. Her makeup is on point. Her nails were always done, even the damn toes.

I’ve seen her ‘slumming’ it before. Although her terms of ‘slumming it’ are far different from mine. When she slums, it’s like watching her in a green room prepping for a performance. She has a hairstyle for ‘relaxed occasions’ along with a customized tracksuit with one of her many insignia on it. It’s like she’s relaxed perfection.

Now there is another mode of relaxation for her, It’s what she calls her ‘princess time’ she’s usually watching anime or reading fan fiction, but often playing whatever video game her husband bought for her. She fondly calls herself a fujoshi, with her little collections of anime and manga alike. Yes that’s right, husband.

He does a majority of the work in the house, cleans, cooks, and runs all the non-child related errands. He has this little weight studio in place of their dining room. It’s quite interesting because there’s a sound system and everything.

She has two kids as well. A toddler and a grade school kid. She does most of the day to day child rearing. Her ideologies involved parents being accountable up until the child leaves the nest as an independent adult. If the child can function in society and still have a mind of its own, the parent has done a good job.

Chaudie was a one of a kind person, as far as I knew. Sometimes, I look for her. It would be in the most common places. But I haven’t been able to find her lately. Sometimes, I see her as I apply my makeup. Other times, it’s when she’s at her happiest, curled with her iPad reading a story. But she’s been disappearing lately. Since her depression reared its ugly head again, she went into hiding. It was like that for a few months.

Then, there was glimpses of her again. This time it was in weird places. Like when I was conversing with my sister… I saw her clear as day. She looked at me, in all her finery and gave me that smirk. Like she had won our game of hide and seek. But I saw it. I saw what they had did to her. The darkness under her eyes that lost that sparkle. The chapped lips and dry skin beckoning for water. Her hair was dull, lifeless, short.

I was scared, but as my faith in her remain, she regained color in her cheeks. Her eyes held that mirth that would threaten to spill over into tears. It was as if she was happy for someone seeking her out.

I’m still looking for her, you know. I’ve figured out her game. In order to find her, I have to put myself into the same dimension. I’m regaining my passions, embracing my relationships, and working on myself to look like her. Act like her. Be Her.

She doesn’t always show up, but I know she lingers nearby. I hope she comes back soon. It’s a little lonely looking into that mirror…

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