Promise.
Empty Apologies.
It's now 6.34am, and still I am awake. I decide to get up; there's no chance of me getting any sleep now.
Time Elapse
I sit in the living space/kitchenette type area, reading. I’m not much of a reader; I’d much prefer to watch TV, but I don’t want to feel the wrath of Bob being woken up.
I have the sudden urge to go take a slash, so I go.
Standing in the small washroom, I listen to the sound of myself pissing; urine tinkling. It's really rather relaxing. After I have finished, I wash my hands; I actually care about my personal hygeine, contrary to popular belief.
Walking out, I notice that the television is now on; high volume. I sigh. That means one thing.
You’re awake.
I don’t want to face you, but even more do I not want to spend the next few hours sitting in the washroom.
So I take a deep breath, and walk into the living space. Sure enough, you’re sat there, eyes glued to the box in front of you, smoking your cancer stick. I snigger. So typical of you.
Your head snaps away from the screen. As you see me, your mouth curls into a malicious smirk.
‘What are you laughing at, you pathetic piece of trash?’
That one short remark is enough to re-open the wound in my heart. I bite my tongue to hold back tears that are threatening to form. It’s unbelievable how fragile I am nowadays. The phrase ‘whatever doesn’t kill you can only make you stronger’ hasn’t seemed to work in my case. At every little thing are my cheeks marked with the bitter stain of salt water.
As if you see my hurt, you bite you lip. A whispered apology is heard, and I am happy again. How ironic that that one, small, empty apology is enough to brighten my day.
It’s funny how my happiness depends on you; how much more it stings to be hurt by you than by any other. I suppose that’s what happens when you love and are not loved in return.
I’m sick and tired of not being able to stand up for myself. You see, when I speak to you, I find myself unable to hate you, unable to contradict you. You’re just too damn perfect.
Why are you so perfect?
I frown. Being impulsive as I am, I decide something on the spot, as your sneering gaze pierces me like an x-ray.
I’m going to stand up to you, once and for all. I’m tired of this shit.
I open my mouth to speak, to regurgitate all the shit I’ve ever wanted to scream at your smug face.
But my courage fails as I look you in the eye. I knew it’d end up like this; it always does. You sitting calmly, looking amused, whilst I do my goldfish impression. I should have run to hide like I normally do. And then I remember why.
I’ve spent my life running; unable, or not wanting, to face my problems. I have to get over that. Yet I don’t want to fight you. Not again. I lost that fight long ago.
Years have gone by, and despite everything, I still fucking love you.
And as I reach this revolution in my mind, still you sit, coolly and calmly, watching me with that annoying bemused expression on your face.
Vexed, I open my mouth to throw a witty remark at you, but my head spins and I grow dizzy. I stumble once, twice, and I fall, unconscious on the gritty floor.
The last thing I hear is your alarmed shout. I feel your warm arms cradle my shivering body, and then, there is nothing.
Time Elapse
I sit in the living space/kitchenette type area, reading. I’m not much of a reader; I’d much prefer to watch TV, but I don’t want to feel the wrath of Bob being woken up.
I have the sudden urge to go take a slash, so I go.
Standing in the small washroom, I listen to the sound of myself pissing; urine tinkling. It's really rather relaxing. After I have finished, I wash my hands; I actually care about my personal hygeine, contrary to popular belief.
Walking out, I notice that the television is now on; high volume. I sigh. That means one thing.
You’re awake.
I don’t want to face you, but even more do I not want to spend the next few hours sitting in the washroom.
So I take a deep breath, and walk into the living space. Sure enough, you’re sat there, eyes glued to the box in front of you, smoking your cancer stick. I snigger. So typical of you.
Your head snaps away from the screen. As you see me, your mouth curls into a malicious smirk.
‘What are you laughing at, you pathetic piece of trash?’
That one short remark is enough to re-open the wound in my heart. I bite my tongue to hold back tears that are threatening to form. It’s unbelievable how fragile I am nowadays. The phrase ‘whatever doesn’t kill you can only make you stronger’ hasn’t seemed to work in my case. At every little thing are my cheeks marked with the bitter stain of salt water.
As if you see my hurt, you bite you lip. A whispered apology is heard, and I am happy again. How ironic that that one, small, empty apology is enough to brighten my day.
It’s funny how my happiness depends on you; how much more it stings to be hurt by you than by any other. I suppose that’s what happens when you love and are not loved in return.
I’m sick and tired of not being able to stand up for myself. You see, when I speak to you, I find myself unable to hate you, unable to contradict you. You’re just too damn perfect.
Why are you so perfect?
I frown. Being impulsive as I am, I decide something on the spot, as your sneering gaze pierces me like an x-ray.
I’m going to stand up to you, once and for all. I’m tired of this shit.
I open my mouth to speak, to regurgitate all the shit I’ve ever wanted to scream at your smug face.
But my courage fails as I look you in the eye. I knew it’d end up like this; it always does. You sitting calmly, looking amused, whilst I do my goldfish impression. I should have run to hide like I normally do. And then I remember why.
I’ve spent my life running; unable, or not wanting, to face my problems. I have to get over that. Yet I don’t want to fight you. Not again. I lost that fight long ago.
Years have gone by, and despite everything, I still fucking love you.
And as I reach this revolution in my mind, still you sit, coolly and calmly, watching me with that annoying bemused expression on your face.
Vexed, I open my mouth to throw a witty remark at you, but my head spins and I grow dizzy. I stumble once, twice, and I fall, unconscious on the gritty floor.
The last thing I hear is your alarmed shout. I feel your warm arms cradle my shivering body, and then, there is nothing.