Have you ever imagined The One? Their fingernails. Their lopsided smile after cracking and inside joke. Their crooked toes. Their smell right after a steamy shower, and at the end of a long day. How they’d know you better than you know yourself, and you’d want to be with them to explore both you and… Continue reading Pre-anniversary
I have been learning your skin for over four years, without ever touching you, just observing from far away through the screen, the way your lips curl into an oh so rare smile and when you chuckle like a man turning into a boy for a moment, a boy long forgotten and perhaps lost in… Continue reading You
Do you know what sucks? Feeling like I’ve never been closer to someone than I am to you – knowing it will never be less than an ocean apart. Wanting to tell you how much I hurt – holding back because I don’t want to burden you. Giving all I have ever been and all… Continue reading Unsent Letter #3
Áfra János: Little shop of misunderstandings I would like to say, if you were here, I’d calm down, But instead I say, your constant absence upsets me. You would like to say, you would be next to me if you could, But instead you say, we cannot always be together every day. I would like… Continue reading Little shop of misunderstandings
A week after your disappearance, I am sticking with the silence. Two can play the game even if we both know there will be no winners. But whilst I sit in my cold room listening to the intermittent midnight traffic and the incessant pattering of the rain on my windowsill, I can imagine what if. For… Continue reading Unsent Letter #2
Journal writing / soul & purpose searching questions, courtesy of Eat Spin Run Repeat. 1. What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail? I would lose weight. I would implement a body nurturing habit regime. I would apply to jobs i really wanted. I would start dating. I would write a book. I would… Continue reading Question Time
I am mad at him. I am fuming.
Lying on the edges of the bed, trying to melt into the cold wall and clutching the duvet tight in my fist lest I start banging it against something, I try to control my breathing and stay immobile. I am not going to say anything. He knows.
Hours earlier, I asked if we can go out for dinner, to celebrate my finishing of my degree, my leaving of a crappy job, my getting an interview, my return. He said no, and attached a couple of excuses, like being tired, not having clean clothes, not being in the mood. He said we’ll get take away and that’s that. His word is final, after all – compromise, as such, doesn’t exist.
I left him, trying not to bang the car door, to meet another for a few hours, to purge his cannot be arsed attitude from my mind and make the most of my visit. A text came saying…