Bitter and Sick

There’s a daddy long legs on the stairs. My hair looks slightly flatter than I would like, I feel slightly more bloated than I would choose. I can’t tell if I’m sick or if it’s just sadness creeping out of me from the inside. What have I done?

I sent her away. The one who wanted to do anything for me, the one who wanted to be everything for me. But she couldn’t. I wanted more. I needed more. I told them all that I deserved so much more. What have I done?

I ache and my head is heavy. I feel tired and sluggish, I can hardly lift my head and I want to cry. But I’ve told everyone I’m fine, I’ve told them all I deserve so much more. I miss her now, I saw her yesterday and I miss her. I ran away, I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t look at her, it hurt. She hurt herself because I broke her heart. I broke my heart because I want so much more. What have I done?

Post break up sex

He stroked my face as he fell onto me. He observed my skin, some modern art he was trying to make sense of where no sense was to be made. The morning sun shone bright through the window, illuminating our milky skin wrapped closely round our bones. We had sex. It was fairly awful. It felt nice, but it was fraught and took place in a void where passion once existed in both of our lives. I wondered if it made him miss her more, I dare not ask. It didn’t make me miss anyone. I let him have control, I watched his face betray his new experience and I watched him finish much sooner than he would have liked. 

The longest week.

I’m going a little bit crazy. An ache for adventure is bouncing around inside of me like the prana life force that’s explained to us in yoga. But I’m at work, and I must sit, be still. I’m excited, I’m nervous and I’m impatient. I want to jump ahead, be in the moment I am excited for, not sat here imagining it. But it will come, and I will look back on these moments in fondness. So I sit, and I learn patience.. very slowly, for it’s not something I imagine can be learnt in haste. 

Whiskey, Music, Love.

We drank whiskey and made music. I’ve never recorded music before, I’ve never sung in front of someone like that before. Anyway, the music sounded good and it must have turned us on because we ended up all over each other. My hand brushed my leg at one point and I remembered that I hadn’t been touched for a very. long. time. I announced ‘my legs are hairy!’ and he instantly replied, ‘don’t worry, I’m a feminist’.