Another Wasted Day

It’s four twenty five in the afternoon and I’m still lying in bed.

Trying, in vain, to sleep away the thoughts inside my head.

Perhaps I should get up and go out for a bracing walk instead.

It has to be better than staying in here and wishing I was dead.

(Originally Posted 22.06.2019)

‘It’s still early days…’

I wake up with Harry the cat walking over my face. Fuck, is my first thought. It’s Saturday.

Saturdays have become the most difficult day since you’ve gone. Saturdays mean at least forty hours must pass before I can go to work and have something to distract my mind from this impenetrable sadness. I count the days in my head. Thirteen weeks. You died thirteen weeks ago today.

I push Harry off the bed and turn onto my side. I pull the duvet around my neck and scrunch up my eyes, trying to block out the daylight seeping in from the window. If I can just go back to sleep, even for a little while, at least I won’t have to face being alone with my thoughts. I try hard to think of nice things and to drift off back to sleep.

Of course, it is to no avail. Apart from the fact that my toes are poking out from the bottom of the bed and are in danger of being shred to ribbons by a predatory Harry: I need a piss.

With a heavy sigh I sit up. Carefully, keeping the duvet around my neck to ward off the impending chill, I hunt around the bed for the remote control and turn on the TV. I’m amazed at how reliant I have become on this screen. It’s on more often than off now – the inane chatter of random talk shows preferable to the otherwise morbid silence.

When Harry’s cute (but really fucking annoying) meowing finally becomes too much to bear, I haul myself out of bed. Pulling on yesterdays t-shirt and joggers from the floor I walk through to the kitchen. Harry weaves in and out of my legs causing a near catastrophe more than once. I look in his dish – little bastard still has half a meal left from last night. There was no need for him to wake me up at all.

He’s a poor wee thing though. He’s been finding it hard too, since you died. He doesn’t like being alone much either. I top up his food and water bowl and he tucks in appreciatively. I give him a pat and head to the bathroom.

As I move my hands in and out of the tap water I examine my face in the mirror. Just look at the fucking state of me. At thirty eight I’m not exactly in the prime of my life, but still, really?! This is what I look like now? Jesus.

My hair is greying, my face is blotchy and bloated and my eyes are like piss holes in the snow. Thankfully my clothes hide the worst of the scarred, stretch marked, cellulite ridden body I know fine well I live in. To have to look at that this morning would really push me over the edge.

I go back to the bedroom and jump back into bed. As I get comfortable Harry comes to join me, settling on top of the duvet for cuddles. At least I have him I think. It’s better than no one, and I’ll take all the friends I can get right now. I need them since you died.

I reach for my other friend – a cigarette – and I am momentarily soothed as the nicotine rushes through my blood stream.

I consider getting up, getting dressed and going in to town to buy some shit I neither want or can afford. It’s how I’ve tried to fill the gap, since you died.

I remember it hasn’t worked the last two Saturday’s, so there’s no point trying again today. I set the TV to put itself to sleep in half an hour and settle back down again. I pull the duvet around my neck and close my eyes – Harry still purring away beside me.

The days news is burbling away in the background. Some cold and unfeeling male voice is revealing that, apparently, five people in China have died from a mystery illness. Definitely best not to go out today then. I drift off into a restless sleep.

I wake up with Harry the cat walking over my face. Fuck, is my first thought. It’s still Saturday…

(Originally Posted 03.03.2019)

Sailing

‘Choppy waters ahead, Captain, but I see dry land on the horizon’.

‘Drop anchor here then, Sailor, for I’d prefer to die in the storm’.

(Originally Posted 27.03.2019)

Next

At this point I just want to feel

It matters not what or who

But this world has lost its appeal

So what is a girl to do?

Tiredness

I already want to go back to sleep

And I haven’t even woken up yet

(Originally Posted 08.04.2019)

Vodka

Poor
me

Poor
me

Pour me
another

I don’t
want to
go home

(Originally Posted 10.05.2019)

Parties

Hi,

Sorry I’m late.

I didn’t want to come

And I already want to go home.

Where’s the booze..?

(Originally Posted 19.04.2019)

Multi Storey Car Parks

As I stand here I wonder…

Who would care, really?

Who would cry?

Who would be bothered to stop and ask why?

Should I? Shouldn’t I?

I couldn’t really go through with it though, could I?

Who would laugh?

Who would sigh?

Is it even possible from up this high?

And then I jump.

Without another care in the world,

or even so much as a goodbye.

(Originally Posted 17.06.2019)

Sanctuary

Never more than when

I’m in a room full of people

Do I feel most alone

All I want to do is beat

A slow, silent, steady retreat

And find my sanctuary at home

The Daily Struggle

I went back to bed

Three times today

To try to dream

This pain away

But it didn’t work

And now I’m awake

Do I have any choice

But my life to take?

Zestless

Finally
dropping
into
bed

Knowing
I couldn’t
have done
any more

There’s
no point
setting
an alarm

As
there’s
nothing
to wake
up for

Old Hat

You’ve
been
on my
mind
today

More
than
any
other
time

If only
it had
inspired
something
epic

And
not this
fucking
awful
rhyme

Wallowing

I
could
lie
here
and
fade
away

I’m
neither
here
nor
there

Not
that
I expect
you
would
notice

Or
that
you’d
even
care

Digging Deep

And as
another
busy
week
starts

In
this
maelstrom
of ruptured
hearts

We
can
only
hope
to find

Solace
in our
peace
of
mind

Group Therapy

I’m
glad
you
find
it
helpful

But I
certainly
do not

What’s
the
point
in
telling
tales

When
you’ve
already
lost
the
plot?

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