in-exhale
Wednesday, 3rd. January - 2023
It wasn't an unusual evening. There was nothing special that prompted me to take the wrong turn home or embark on a journey that wasn't entirely for practical purposes.
I'd stepped out of the building just ten or so minutes ago, grasping my coat and my uniform, despite the hole in my shoe and the bitter January I'd never grown accustomed to.
Perhaps I'd come to see you.
I saw you the first time I tilted my head to take in the stars, and I saw you in the cold that held and reddened my face. I saw you in the lilt of my gait and the smile I reserved for the dark. I saw you in the wind that held my hand, brushed my hair, kissed my forehead, and nipped at my ears.
Perhaps you'd never leave me, after all.
[...]
Monday, 8. May - 2023
Women are both the object of love, and the victim of it.
note to self
Saturday, 10. September - 2022
the sun sets but it doesn't leave it just gets colder it jusg gets darker it feels like it's leaving me again
untitled
Sunday, 29. May - 2022
i think we should stop this
i think we both want different things & it's not fair to hold you to that so
i'm sorry to conflict you
i'll speak to you soon
i think ur right
god i don't want to lose you again though
does stop mean stop everything? like even talking
i'm still so fucking in love with you
i'm gonna regret this for the rest of my life
how i feel
Saturday, 5. March - 2022
I keep simplifying things. Then I'll overcomplicate them. I need to understand how I feel about you, because I don't.
type
Friday, 20. January - 2022
TO BE A HUMAN BEING SO INCOMPREHENSIBLE TO RATIONAL THOUGHT THAT I AM completely unable to understand myself altogether - that must be the type of person I really am. Indeed, one of my greatest fears is the ease at which lie after lie tumbles eagerly from my tongue, despite my inner protests, effectively slamming a prison-door tight as I'm pushed further and further from the glow at the entrance. Surely, if they were able to figure out how much of my laughter rang false, the way I'd return to the mirror in fits of tears and use my stubby fingers to stretch my mouth at the corner until I resembled not so much a human being as a disgusting imitation of such - perhaps if they were made aware I'm utterly unable to understand other people at all. It's as if we're playing skipping-rope, and on my turn they make sure to swing irregularly, biting at my ankles and causing me to graze and cut my skin on concrete.
It's at times like these, when the sun turns bright in a cruel mockery of summer, that I'm plagued with such things the most. As I clutch my bag closer and step lamely to the platform, just managing to steer clear of the doors as they slam shut behind me, I begin once again on my journey of what has to be one of the most horrid seasons poor England has to offer.
-esque
Sunday, 8. January - 2022
First
It is difficult for me to explain to you what 'waking up' truly feels like. Some days it is dread - a flooding panic that pulls and constricts as I attempt to remember days that slip through my fingers like fine sand.
I should get up, I think. There is no use in wasted time.
And yet, there is an even softer pull in my subconscious. A sort of weight falls over me, and I close my eyes once more.
Second
I bite the urge to cry out as my curtains are pulled harshly from their frame. Blinding light fills my eyelids, and that sick shame threatens to rise with me again. How late! Alarms do little to disturb my sleep, it seems: The irony is not lost on me. Refusal to sleep for fear of lost time, met with the sacrifice of several hours in the morning instead. A vicious cycle.
Most of all, my mother's voice is enough to raise my temper.
"It's so late!" She exclaims, passing through the rooms of my sister and I. "Come on! Up you get," She rallies, pausing only to pet our cat on the way through.
Despite my complaints, these are my favourite type of mornings. A rare time I allow Evie to cuddle up to me so closely, to pet her eager kisses as I gradually allow my eyes and mind to work in harmony.