‘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)

Hard/Harder

Falling asleep is hard 
Waking up is harder

Getting showered is hard
Putting on clothes is harder

Making breakfast is hard
Eating it is harder

Leaving the house is hard
Going home is harder

Crossing the road is hard
Looking both ways is harder

Listening to people is hard
Talking to people is harder

Smiling in general is hard
Laughing at jokes is harder

Living with you was hard
Living without you is harder

(Originally Posted 13.3.2019)

Out of Space

It's like I'm an alien.

Cast adrift on the wrong planet,

Slowly waving cheerio to the spacecraft as it departs.

'Please, don't leave me behind...'

(Originally Posted 06.03.2019)

 

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?

The Note

It was the lonliness

That got to me

If I’m honest

In the end

Sitting here

Just quietly

But all alone

Again

Desperately trying

Yet failing

My broken heart

To mend

All the while

Convinced

The rope

Was my friend

‘Still Life’

It’s too
quiet
for my
liking

I don’t
think
I can
cope

This
lonliness
is
striking

In a
world
devoid
of hope

‘Lonely This Christmas’

I remember when we stayed in bed all day

And just ate crisps and cheese

I remember when I surprised you with gifts

And you couldn’t have been more pleased

I remember when you chatted with my Gran

And you were welcomed by my crazy clan

I remember receiving your last present

Sent to me all the way from heaven

I miss you so much today

That you’re not here is a shame

As Christmas Day without you

Will never be the same

Xxx

I’d Only Stand in the Kitchen Anyway…

For the third night in a row there are people having a party, somewhere, along my street.

I can hear them talking and laughing in their garden.

I can smell their cigarette smoke through my open window.

I can hear the rattle of beer bottles as they are thrown into the recycle bin.

Music blares away until the early hours.

I’m so jealous sitting here, miserable and alone, night after night.

I mean, I can be fun too you know.

Well, kind of.

Sham(e)

I got
bored of
this shit
a long
time ago

These
endless
tales of
sadness
and woe

With eyes
that burn
from the
tears that
flow

I loathe
myself
more than
you’ll
ever know

Power

I’ve walked
along
this road
before

Feeling
lonely
and
insecure

At least
this time
I know
for sure

You
cannot
hurt me
anymore

How Much

It’s unmanageable, how much I grieve for you.

It’s uncomfortable, how much I can’t move on.

It’s unsettling, how much I hate you for leaving me.

It’s undignified, how much I cry for you.

It’s unbearable, how much I still love you.

He Said / She Said

One day
You might be somebody’s something
He said

But today
I am nobody’s nothing
She said

One day
Somebody might love you
He said

But today
Nobody does
She said

Questions

When does this pain end?
Have I not suffered enough?
Will things ever change?
Does time heal everything?
Am I done?
Do I care?
Shall I?
Go where?
Alone?
Forever?

 

Still Hear

I still hear your key rattle in the door,
I still hear your footsteps across the floor.
I still hear your rubbish music playing,
I still hear your awesome temper fraying.
I still hear you impart your innate wisdom,
I still hear you berate with fierce criticism.
I still hear you sing your daft wee songs,
I still hear the bubble of your endless bongs.
I still hear you chew too loudly when you eat,
I still hear the thump of your heart beat.
I still hear your laugh and your wry chuckle,
I still hear your beloved belt unbuckle.
I still hear your enticing voice roar,
I still hear your thunderous snore.
I still hear your exasperated sigh,
I still hear your exhausted cry.

I Wish You Were,
Still Here.

Hope

Your words help guide my wayward step
and shine light in to my darkened heart

Your smile breaks my fall to the kitchen floor
and stems the tears in my haunted eyes

Your touch quietens the incessant voice in my head
and replenishes my embittered soul

You allow me to believe that love might be possible again

One day

Waiting

It’s like you’ve been round at your pals house for the evening, and you’re going to call me in a minute to tell me you’re on the bus home…

But you never call…

Falling

I am falling.

Tumbling through the air,

Spinning over and over,

Hurtling towards the ground.

Some fucker has stolen my parachute.

Don’t think I’m surviving this one, eh?

The Bridge

Today, I choose not to jump.

Tomorrow, who knows.

I am already standing too close to the edge…

 

Three Hundred and Sixty Five Days

It is unbelievable to think that trip 
was three hundred and sixty five days ago.

Just one anonymous face in a sea of many.
My twenty three year old dream realised.

Outstanding.

There was no way to know then where I would be now.
Here, three hundred and sixty five days on, alone.

I would trade every second of that trip,
to have just one more minute,
with you.

xxx

 

First Day Back

Dishwashers rattle
Kettles bubble
Doors bang
Toilets drip
Heaters blast
Floorboards creak
Keys jangle
Voices whisper
Switches flick
Mouths yawn
Arms stretch
Feet shuffle
Computers hum
Mouse wheels tick
Photocopiers whirr
Printers churn
Keyboards click
Phones trill
Mobiles buzz
Pens scratch
Papers rustle

My Heart Breaks

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