Poppy

HELLO, GOOD MORNING!

Far from the towering cityscape where inkfish go to thrive, Poppy got her start in the rural countryside in a quaint, woodsy little valley town. Tucked away in the rich landscape, all winding backroads you learn like an old friend, it was a breath of fresh air from the average bustling, fast-paced city life — the place seemed to belong to no one in particular, either, its diverse denizens ranging from reefkind to crustaceans and most things in between. Poppy's parents had liked it enough to build their home there before starting their family anew; she was the youngest of four, raised alongside her two older brothers with her eldest sister having left the nest when Poppy was barely four.

Poppy's childhood was fairly typical, but far from uneventful. She was friendly, stubborn and wild as a child — and a clingy little thing, on top. Always chasing, chasing, chasing. She drove her brothers crazy tagging along with them everywhere they went, hunting them down like a bloodhound if they tried to sneak off without her. Things were simpler back then. It was all times tables and chasing each other through the brush, faux murder mysteries in the old tortoise's barn, no small amount of evenings running home covered head to toe in mud from the stream if they weren't still smearing it on each other. Poppy's earliest years are a blur of their childish antics, unhindered by worries beyond what tomorrow would hold and any drama that actually mattered. For the most part.

She'd attracted a handful of those like her that'd end up sticking around as the years crept by. Friends like those would become everything to her as she grew into the not-so-little oddball she was, and found difficulty fitting in among her peers and classmates. Poppy, much like those who'd joined her huddle, wasn't the most socially graceful; she was always encouraged to be herself, and knew not any other way to be. Sometimes that just meant weird. Her earnest, bright personality was charming to some — others found amusement in poking fun at her "childish" demeanor, or any number of oddities she carried around with her. Her reactions were nothing if not rewarding, much to her own chagrin. It was too easy to bait her into getting herself in trouble. That tenderheartedness wasn't going anywhere.

Come hell or high water, though, her best friend— a black cap basslet named Maggie— never left her side. They stuck together through pretty much everything, from the days of worrying about cooties to homework and clubs, boys and school dances they always ended up going to with each other anyway. They grew up chattering away in the quiet darkness of each other's rooms, a constant presence no matter what. A shoulder to cry on when rejected. A hand to hold through it. Someone to celebrate with when things did finally go right. Things were never perfect, but they didn't need to be; Poppy was happy with the hand life dealt her.

MIDDAY BLUES.

Time goes on, as time tends to do. They grow up closer than ever, but the draw of the big wide world beyond begins to rear its head eventually. Sitting on a rooftop, tracing the stars, Poppy learned a lot about dreams. Visions. Visions that everyone around her seemed to have for their future, and what they planned to make of it come graduation. It's not the first time they'd sat here, spouting their childish ambitions that changed month to month. This, though, was much different. These were tangible, something within reach. The groundwork had already been laid, for some; Poppy was happy for them, of course she was. But come the big question in her direction at last, sitting here with all the company she'd accumulated over the years, she realized that she wasn't sure what she wanted to do with herself at all. It felt silly to admit, but maybe she'd needed the wakeup call to figure it out. Time must have gotten away from her.

There are plenty of options at her disposal. Plenty more that sound fun, interesting. But Poppy struggles to imagine herself anywhere but here, struggles to keep up with the clock tick tick ticking her fleeting youth away. Her sister visits, as she does every year. She's everything Poppy isn't: successful, put together, already out the door by the age Poppy was now. The thought of leaving this little nook, their house with wallpaper that peeled on the corners that smelled of cinnamon and lemon zest, had her digging her claws in even deeper. She could go to college, maybe — her brother was, so she heard. She doesn't know what she'd want to study, though. There's something missing from the equation, a spice that didn't make it into the dish. Nothing was enticing. The seasons come and go, graduation parties and celebrations that make her feel so young she could almost forget her predicament altogether. Mud from the stream on their gowns, laughing in the light of the fireflies, things finally felt right again.

The months creep onward, though, and they can't wait for her forever. The future was calling, and they had to pick up eventually. Her brother left first. He's off to secure that future in some distant university. Promises to call, but he's busy and they aren't children anymore. The other isn't far behind, his sporty prowess planting him on a path with ease. Her friends dwindle, slowly but surely — life seemed to come to them far more naturally than it did to her. How they could just pack up and leave everything behind baffled her, claws still dug into what was quickly becoming a past-tense.

Even Maggie's dream is close to coming true. Poppy's with her all the way, keeping her claws sheathed the one time it counts. She'll visit, she'll call. She better, Poppy had joked through tears.

Only when they're gone does Poppy realize what was missing from the equation. All she'd really wanted was for things to stay the way they were. For them to stay. Without that, and without them, she'd never felt more lost in the place she'd once called home. Empty as it is now, even that feels wrong. The vision of her future hadn't been one of the future at all.

Something needed to happen, now. Poppy's parents think they know just what.

DUSK.

They meant well, really. Sitting here discouraged and teary-eyed wouldn't do Poppy any good. They don't want that for her. They figure her indecisiveness had to be born of uncertainty, intimidated by the big wide world she's never seen — maybe a little too sure of themselves in how they knew her, the clingy little homebody she's always been. Poppy wasn't one to argue, either. To cheer her up and on, they presented her with a gracious lump-sum of money they'd been putting away for her for years, as they had her siblings before her. Her "jumpstart". She just needed to see the world a little, spread her wings so she could fly. Get a taste of independence. Given the means to go out and discover herself without limitations, they were sure she'd catch up. Her mother's old car was hers to take. Go find what you want, and come on back. We'll figure it out from there.

Poppy was grateful. Really, she was. But in the deep of her insecurities, she misconstrued their favor in the worst way she could have. They couldn't wait for her forever, either, she figured — heaven forbid her lingering here get in the way of the lives they wanted to live, too. She'd moped around long enough. Poppy takes this as a hint to get her act together already, and agrees to set off to do just that. Packing that bag feels like pulling teeth, but being told how proud they are of her before she'd even done anything made for a decent push. They'll be in touch. Driving her crazy, they promise. The morning she sets out, they embrace before she goes. Her mother cradles her cheeks just as she'd done the first day of school, and says just what she'd said back then. "Smile big. They're going to love you, Poppy".

In truth, Poppy had always wanted to go out and see the big cities beyond the valley — now with all the more incentive to make something of herself, she wanted to cover all the ground that she could. A part of her thought if she succeeded, found her footing at long last, things could go back to some kind of normal. She'd have something to talk about with her old friends and her siblings, however busy they were. Could make her parents proud and relieve them of their duty to take care of her far past due. The loss of her childish dreams up to then still ached, but she was hardly a pessimist. Maybe this was just what she needed. She was quite a sight to behold, as any backpacking country girl heads above most denizens documenting her sightseeing escapade with a clunky old camera would be. She didn't exactly know how, or when, to lay low.

She may have been better off learning how, in hindsight.

There was no dancing around it: Poppy was still sorely missing her old company, and far from a solitary creature. A girl whose dreams had only ever relied on having them by her side had no chance of finding her life out here alone. She finds herself mingling with all sorts of interesting crowds, seeking companionship and city-goer know-how. Having someone to show her the ropes would be nice. How they did things here was nothing like what she was used to at home, and she wanted to make a good first impression. Though she wasn't without her values and integrity, she was a little naïve — a little desperate to be cool and liked, not left behind again when she was in such a vulnerable position. Many of these cityfolk seemed to prioritize making the most of life, maximizing their time, enticing to that tender patch Poppy was still nursing. She had the advantage of money to blow, making her a bit of a crowd favorite in what circles she'd fallen into when good times often came with a price tag.

Not for nothing, though. Surely as she learned how they operate, what city life is really like, she'd finally find a place she fit. Stumble upon that something to do with herself that they seemed so confident was waiting for her out here, all while keeping pace with these new friends of hers who never seemed to stop moving. ...Really, never. It was a little overwhelming for Poppy, whose life had moved so slow until it hadn't — the average week for her companions felt like months worth of experiences for her, milestones one after the other. First concert for a band whose name she didn't know. First joyride in someone else's car. First turf war, or whatever it was called. Experiences she was glad to have, but ultimately got her no closer to her goal. Contact with her friends and family had remained steady as was their mutual promise, but as the hurried days blurred past, Poppy grew scarcer. She found it hard to respond when the topic of how her shiny new life was going came up, as it inevitably would. Avoiding that had collateral. It was just until she got her act together, she thought. Just until she had something to tell them that wasn't how lost she still was. Those unanswered messages did little to soothe the homesickness that'd plagued her since her departure, though. Only made it worse.

Those milestones kept coming. First time crashing on someone's couch. First house party where she couldn't even discern who was throwing it. First sip of something she probably shouldn't be having. First time sneaking into a club. First, and last, she swears, time hiding from police. First... date, maybe, because that's what she figured you were supposed to do when someone asks and it's nice to feel wanted when you're insecure. It wasn't all bad. It was fun, however exhausting it was. Hell, she was half-convinced she was in love — maybe this is just how things were in the city. Maybe adjusting to that breakneck speed that'd swept her old life away was just part of growing up. And maybe she was the only one who hadn't, yet.

TWILIGHT.

It wouldn't be that simple, either way. What Poppy thought were her people now weren't quite as invested in all of this as she was. As time went on and on, her search for companionship on the deeper levels she longed for only lead her to shallow water with no end in sight. They were friends, supposedly, but in a way Poppy struggled to grasp. They barely knew anything about each other after all this time. The longer things went on as they did, it almost seemed like the point of this arrangement was just having people to kill time with, and little more than that. Poppy had good favor among them, never saying no (as if she knew how to) and funding their little party when they were short, determined to be the fun kind of person they were looking for. But while she succeeded, there, she'd lost her own momentum in the process. She's no closer to finding herself, and further than ever from finding what she'd come out here for in the first place. She doesn't know what else to do except fight for what was never there.

She latches onto them maybe a bit too tightly, as her only tether to this new life she had yet to put her roots into. Especially her boyfriend, who thought being willing to date a girl taller than him was a personality trait. Try to be something more than what she'd made herself for them, though, and suddenly she was asking for too much. This was as deep as the water got. Crawling back to land wasn't an option, not with all of the nothing to show for it. She put her hearts on hold for one last stretch, holding onto the hope that something would change lest reality finally catch up to her.

It all comes to a head one night. Another venue she probably shouldn't be at, and hadn't wanted to come to. Silhouetted bodies swarming under blacklight. Her boyfriend was among them somewhere, lost in the flashing lights and blast of the speaker system. Overwhelmed, Poppy had retreated into one of the restrooms to try and wrangle her frayed nerves and racing hearts. Not once has she ever dared to back out or ask to leave, but in what would become the ultimate test of her own will, this time she decides to speak her mind. Or, she would have. When she finds her him after struggling through the crowd, only a little upset that he hadn't even been looking for her, that becomes the least of her worries. He's got his tongue in another girl's mouth, and Poppy— already on the brink and reeling from the shock— finally loses her cool. Growing up with the company she did, she may have underestimated her own hysterical strength; the poor guy ends up being put through the cheap punch table when she tackles him to give him a piece of her mind, before she's removed from the premises in a mess of ink and tears.

Safe to say, that was the end of that, and the beginning of the end of the rest. Though a handful of her companions were sympathetic, they're more surprised she hadn't seen it coming. Their jokes about her not being the first in his scummy streak makes her blood boil. She can't understand why they let her do it, why they put up with someone like him to begin with. Worse yet, in hindsight, it was easy to tell. He'd never even kissed her, would barely hold her hand. She goes from clingy to confrontational, neither being something these freebirds really cared to indulge her in. Far from an act of malice — Poppy's expectations for them had simply been too high from the start. Poppy's learning fast how to tell when she's not wanted. She saves them the trouble of ditching her, and pretends it doesn't hurt.

Her video logs stopped. There was nothing she wanted to say.

She has no choice but to look reality in the face, now. She'd wasted so much of her time. Most of her money was gone, eaten up in their splurging. Unreplied texts and missed calls stare back at her and mock her. She knows she's to blame. But she couldn't bear to confess that she'd poured their gift to her down the drain for what ended up being little more than a cheap thrill. That nothing had come of it, and nothing had come of her. She lashes out at the last people she has to turn to for help. Maybe she felt she was undeserving of it. Maybe part of her still thought they'd sent her off because they'd grown sick of her too, as everyone else seemed to. That tender patch couldn't take another hit with grace — she was hurt, and tired of pretending she wasn't. She severs contact entirely with a thanks a lot, and then cries herself sick.

Her old friends weren't spared, either. Her tendency to leave them on read just until she had something of value to say lead to fewer and fewer coming her way. Fearing they'd finally outgrown her, or perhaps thought the reverse, Poppy doesn't dare disturb the silence to find out. For the first time in her life, Poppy is well and truly alone. Just her and the smallest studio she could find, with the best years of her life trapped behind a camera lens.

"They're going to love you, Poppy". So much for that.

DAWN.

There wasn't exactly time to lay around and be miserable, though she did plenty of that anyway. Securing her apartment took the last of her savings. She had to grow up for real this time, forgo the journey of discovering her passions to punch no small number of clocks into submission as a waitress in a niche little retro diner downtown. Her countryside hospitality mixed with what she'd managed to pick up from her fellow city kids made for an interesting but undeniably charming creature. Whatever got her tips, she guessed.

Her life in the city hadn't amounted to much, but she hadn't learned nothing from the whole ordeal. All that she did learn, she put to use. Tucked that heart on her sleeve into her pocket lest it get the better of her. History wasn't going to repeat itself, this time. She wasn't going to be the one clinging for dear life. She wasn't going to be too much. Determined to flip her life on its head, she swung a bit too hard in the opposite direction, trusting those around her with so little of herself that she left nothing to latch on to. What she wouldn't give, they couldn't take. Every little pleasantry seemed to fizzle out. Nothing she did seemed to be the right thing, or the right amount of it. Maybe she just wasn't good at this anymore. Maybe she never had been. Everyone who'd ever been kind enough to love her, she'd gone and frozen out. Maybe she shouldn't have that until she learns how to behave.

Time goes on, though. She does grow up a bit, only a little bit past due. Her misplaced anger towards her old friends and family is long gone, now, and having to provide for herself gradually turned that old disaster with her city friends into something far less world ending. She knows what she ought to do, but has little desire to rock her world when she's only just gotten it under control. Some part of her worried if they weren't sick of her back then, that her outburst and radio silence might have made it so. It's an uphill battle with her own irrationality, when she can be bothered to dwell. She wants nothing more than for something to come shake up her life, but she's grown a little afraid of the deep end she spent so long chasing after. She hasn't left much time for looking, anyway.

The diner's been getting some unusual patrons these days, though. Maybe she doesn't have to look as hard as she thinks.

...

LOG_5312023.MOV HAS BEEN SAVED.