Pandora was always a perfect presence to me. I used to believe she told me everything about her life, almost everything I believed except for sex. It was after Pandora’s funeral, and Bensimon’s mom invited me over to their house. Bensimon began to tell me about the sides of Pandora that I never knew.
“She always complained she could only be truly be herself when she was around me. And I did get to see the best and worse sides of her. She was a sincere, naïve creature, but at her darkest, she said the world is raping her. That the economy was raping her, forcing her, taking away her time, her identity, her value. She said she felt she could never be herself.” Bensimon explained thoughtfully. We were eating a roast chicken, and Bensimon’s voice was interluded by the sound of us tearing of a roast chicken apart. jap jap jap sounds.
“Pandora always wished she could be like you. To fit perfectly into the mode of society. Your presence was the mirror that Pandora reflected all her deepest desires and secrets onto.” Bensimon further claimed.
“But why would that be? I am just an average person with an average presence. I am nothing compared to Pandora.”
“but you are somewhat well fitted in the society and you had something she didn’t.” Bensimon said. “I told her about it. And she hated me for it. she hated my voice. she hated it when I told her anything about the news. She never understood, life was like a big machine, and everyone paid their own cent so others can have more conveniences and go work quicker. Everyone had to help each other that way. That way you could help each other grow. But she never understood it. She hated groups, where she was assigned a role in a group. You know, she would say she was forced into doing it. She always wanted to do it herself, do everything herself. that was what made her so endearing but life didn't work like that. It was so sad to watch Pandora because up until the very end, she was trying so hard to help herself, to crack her own shell and reach out to the world. I wanted Pandora to be closer to my mother, and to help her out. Say shopping for food for dinner or accompany her to a walk. That would never work out. Pandora was very bad at being around people. She was always the kind of person better at absorbing people's energy than giving people energy. No! I hate this! She would yell. And she would leave! It would always be about her. I never hated her for it. I tried to help her out, but she wouldn't let me. She was a girl with real issues, going through what normal teenagers had to go through.”
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