He said that he
Would be back next week
As he packed a bag
And kissed my cheek
He said that he
Would be back next week
As he packed a bag
And kissed my cheek
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)
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)
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)
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?
It was the lonliness
That got to me
If I’m honest
In the end
But all alone
My broken heart
All the while
Was my friend
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
if I’ll ever
true to you
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.
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.
You might be somebody’s something
I am nobody’s nothing
Somebody might love you
When does this pain end?
Have I not suffered enough?
Will things ever change?
Does time heal everything?
Am I done?
Do I care?
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,
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
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…
Bloodied, bruised, bowed
but not broken.
Who am I kidding?
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?
Today, I choose not to jump.
Tomorrow, who knows.
I am already standing too close to the edge…
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.
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,
'Can I get you anything?'
'A reason for living would be nice.'
I know you’re there…
Mouse wheels tick
My Heart Breaks
The word is weak and meaningless