Please stop sending me monthly timelines
Walking back and forth to the fridge doesn’t count
"All my life's buried here, heap earth upon it"
Please stop sending me monthly timelines
Walking back and forth to the fridge doesn’t count
I’ve never loved myself
So I didn’t expect you to either
Thank you so much for trying,
However,
But I knew we’d achieve neither
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)
Even though
It’s still a shit show
It must go on,
I suppose
(Originally Posted 22.03.2019)
I swear to you right now
On all that is good and holy
Your jokes rarely do anything
But kill me fucking slowly
Why should I bother
Going to bed
When there's nothing
To wake up for
Why should I bother
Waking up
When I enjoy sleeping
So much more
Not only is it the time of year for giving
But the time for receiving too
You’ve no idea how glad I am
There’s no more bullshit gifts from you
I can bear most things in life
But it kills me every time
To know no matter what I do
You’ll still never be mine
Who knows
And, quite frankly,
Who cares
I
knewHe
saidIn
the
endThat it
would
all come
to thisWell
I wishShe
saidThat
you’d
told meAs
now my
heart’s
in bits
Finally
dropping
into
bedKnowing
I couldn’t
have done
any moreThere’s
no point
setting
an alarmAs
there’s
nothing
to wake
up for
A week
off workWhat’s
the pointDrink
a beerSmoke
a jointThat’s
nothing newI do it
every dayIt’s all
I haveKeeping my
demons at bay
Dearly
belovedWe
are
gathered
here
todayTo
witness
this
couple’s
happinessWe
must
remember,
of course,That
in a
year
they’ll be
divorcedAnd
we’ll
have
forgotten
all this
sappiness
I know you better
Than I know myself
So please stop trying
To be someone else
If
someone
told me
then
How all
this
would
end
I’d pack
a bag
and run
away
And not
even
bother
to pretend
I killed
myself
today,
you knowAnd
no one
noticed
a thingFor
everyone
was far
too busyTo
care
about my
suffering
It’s
true
that
life
is
shortBut
for
some
it’s
shorter
stillThey
never
even
see
it
comingLet
alone
have
made
a
will
Please
just
walk
away
And
take
yourself
off home
I
don’t
want to
talk
I
want
to be
alone
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
If
we
really
were
your
family
Then
why
the
fuck
did
you
leave?
There’s
no
point
crawling
back
here
now
Begging
for a
reprieve
As
the
sun
slowly
rises
What’s
the
point
in
going
to bed?
It’s
not
like
sleep
Gives
me
any
reprieve
From
the
voices
in my
head