personal blog: simon
there it is, the internal screaming, the constant screaming that things need to change. that I need change. I cannot go on like this anymore. so, I pick up running, and I hate running. breathing heavily, I stop and look at the track. who gets up at six in the morning to go running? I bet it’s the people who want to escape from their lives, from that boyfriend who overstayed his welcome in my bed. I know this is an escape from Kevin. I barely slept and refused to join Kevin in my bed, after all he seemed sleeping just fine without me, least bothered. I, on the other hand, collected the pieces of the plate from the counter, getting rid off the evidence. the plate that skated across the floor like a lost frisbee.
“here. is that what you want?!” Kevin shouted. “you got a reaction… that’s my answer.” my silence only aggravated him more and I liked it. anger is what I wanted to hear and Kevin gave anger, but the ‘I hate you’ words never came and that pissed me off.
but that was Wednesday morning. by Friday night it just became ridiculous to keep the broken plate as a reminder. not sure who was more stubborn to leave it as a token of our follies, Kevin or I.
by one my body finally went lifeless and I dozed off on the couch.
read more: ← friday 22:21 ♦ saturday 07:13 →
© simon whittle — second act