Huffing a laugh at the eye roll, Aliyah busied herself with stroking her fingers through her friends hair, her book lying forgotten on her lap. Listening to Poppy explain her love of Bob Dylan was an often occurrence but the admittance of her shortcomings was not. They had only been friends for a short while and in that time they hadn’t really talked much about themselves. Therefore, Poppy didn’t know that Aliyah had enough bad experiences to last a lifetime. But how could she explain that in ways that she would understand? A deep sigh made her shoulders sink and she sat back against the headboard, contemplating the answer. Aliyah was the type to never talk unless she knew exactly what she was going to say and it never failed to make some people antsy as her thoughts could go on for a long time before she answered a question, leaving them in an unknown silence that could get awkward quickly. Aliyah liked to think her answers were worth the wait but that was really for others to decide. Her hand sat idle in the woman’s hair as she thought before it resumed its movement of slipping through the silky strands. “I’ve had plenty of bad experiences, plenty of people have hurt me both physically and emotionally, I’ve been homeless and scared for my life… But I don’t write songs about it.” Aliyah finished, a wry smile curling at her lips and marring her features. “I think if that’s how you cope with things - no matter how big or small - then that’s better than shooting up in an alleyway or hitting your significant other like I’ve seen many people do countless times. And even if you think your life is simple - it’s not and you shouldn’t compare yours to others, even your role models. Because no ones life is simple and you’re still alive so its not over yet. I hope nothing happens to you to make you feel as badly as I have before but I can’t change fate. Things happen for a reason.” Licking her dry lips, she stared off into the comforter set before sighing in frustration at her frazzled thoughts.
“Taylor Swift writes songs about her ex boyfriends,” the acrobat reminded the girl laying her head near her legs, glancing down in amusement for the first time since the conversation began. “I know that she’s not a great role model for creative expression but her shit sells. I know that you want to be the kind of artist that does profound, moving things, but if you’re affecting even one person with what you do - no matter how big or small…. That’s where your power lies. It’s not about the performance itself but rather what it inspires in other people. And there are a million sad songs in this world that people enjoy and, yes, most of the time that’s what people relate to most. But you have to remember that we do need lightness, goodness, and purity. So, no, I’ve never felt like that myself because my world is very dark, sometimes scary, and toxic. Rather, I’d like to bask in the sunshine for as long as the world lets me.”
She suddenly felt aware of her own words, feeling as if she’d said too much, which often led to saying something that might’ve been inappropriate, and it wouldn’t have been the first time she’d have offended someone by her inability to filter through what should be said and what should be kept in her head. Aliyah’s prolonged silence, as well as the way the soothing strokes of her fingers against her hair had ceased, did not help the anxiety she was feeling, and she was already preparing a gush of apologies to offer before her friend finally spoke.
She’d always thought of Aliyah as a profound person, or at least, seemed like someone who thought a lot about the world. It was the impression she gave her whenever she said things in the way she said things, and these were thoughts that often had Poppy hanging on to her every word. She was wise beyond her years, and although it was unfortunate that the reason for this was because of terrible happenings that, although vague to her at the moment, saddened her to know that she had to go through, she was grateful for the knowledge that she’d imparted to her, a certain wisdom only acquired through experiences.
Doe-eyed and inspired by her words, she looked up at Aliyah before lifting a hand to rest over her knee and give it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll write a song about you, then. One day.” She then dropped her hand over the mattress before shifting in her position, dragging herself further up the bed so her head was bent resting against the headboard, only cushioned by her pillow. “You know, when I stop sucking at it.” With a slight movement, she allowed her head to rest on Aliyah’s side, snuggling it there.
