Thank you for being my friend
Thank you for making me laugh all the time
Thank you for making me feel pretty regardless of how I actually look
Thank you for making me feel safe
Thank you for going on adventures with me
Thank you for helping me grow
Thank you for laughing at my craziness
Thank you for playing guitar to me
Thank you for being so generous and kind
Thank you for hanging out with my parents
Thank you for telling me when I look nice
Thank you for playing with my hair
Thank you for telling me to always be myself
Thank you for always being yourself
Thank you for the amazing sex
Thank you for hugging me when I cry
Thank you for trusting me
Thank you for loving me
Thank you for being mine
It makes a lot of sense now, it never did before
The songs, the art and poems, the happy endings
It’s not work, it’s just lovely, it’s not heart wrenching, my heart only bursts
Because you look at me the way you do, or you do something so sweet as if it’s nothing
Who else has such kindness in their nature?
You are so lovely, it’s overwhelming
My mother always told me I was looking for Love, I guess I finally found it
I’ve been trying to write, and I’ve been getting frustrated. I’m happy, I have nothing to write about. I need to write lyrics for a song, I hate everything that comes out of my head, I never realised how proud I am of my misery. I re-read every sad thing from every horrendous and painful moment I have documented, nothing. Everything I put on paper sounds generic and dull, who knew being blissfully content was so unproductive.
There are certain things that should just never be left unsaid; I like you, I love you, I want to call you my girlfriend, your breath smells bad, you’ve got cum on your face. Not everything has to be expressed like a leaf falling from a tree in a Thomas Hardy classic, but it’s useful to get these pieces of information out into the physical world, they are more useful there than as musings in your head.
Being happy retains novelty above any other experience I can claim to be my own. The bliss of 4 consecutive wonderful days leaves me peaceful, grateful and content. Bank holiday Monday draws to a calming close; I’m currently sat in a hot bath with the smell of roast potatoes creeping in around the door. I can hear Abby tidying, cooking. Draws bang and plates clatter but it’s a relaxing kind of noise, a homey and therapeutic soundtrack to accompany my last hours of the Easter weekend. I try to run all my thoughts through my head over and over, remembering every beautiful detail so that they might keep me company on darker days.
My parents are laughing together in their room across the hall. The air is still and silent so the only sounds I hear are the buzzing of dimmer switches mixed in with the muffle of cars passing by on their way to work, what is it people say about Monday mornings? I drink my slightly cold coffee and stare at my reflection, this is my last day waking up in this house, I’ve spent 8 years here. My heart beats faster for the loss of a place that’s played home to so many memories, beautiful memories, awful memories, memories that moulded me and brought me here. I cried in the room upstairs when they turned my best friends life support off, I cried when I had my heart broken by my first love. I had an abortion here and sat screaming while my mother held my hand, I harmed myself, I hated myself. I fell in love here for the first time, I truly got to know my parents for the fantastic humans that they are, I grew beyond any expectations I had for myself, I battled and learnt to deal with depression here, I loved three dogs and learnt to play the piano here. I’ve stayed up til 4am talking to my dad in the kitchen and I’ve spent my summers swimming in the garden. It’s not all been a dream but I wouldn’t change a day of it.