26/08/2017

I wake up with sunshine heavy limbs and an achey chest.
I have a spot on my cheek that's been irritating me for the last couple of days,
and I head downstairs with the baby in tow,
sip on my morning litre of water. maybe it'll counteract all my unhealthy habits.
my mother is tired,
it's written in her eyes and her voice and her weighted body. the kitchen table is a mess, like the rest of the house.
I whisper a silent apology for once again being the problem child, the one who continually throws a spanner in the works. I thought by this age, by the time I was 21, I'd have quit being such an enormous weight in my parents' lives. if anything, the weight has only increased.
in the afternoon, you text me. it's neither surprising or shocking but it still catches me off guard. you keep fucking doing that. my hands shake for an hour after I get your message, something completely unwarranted considering how goddamn innocuous a message it really was. I eat lunch in a crowded cafe with my baby and my best friend and I feel genuinely happy. and I check my phone repeatedly anyway, just in case you decide to double text and chase after me. you've never never been that kind of person and I've always always wanted you to be.
I buy hair dye in boots and discover I have a £50 gift card to spend. I also buy a facemask. I was gonna buy it anyway but the gift card makes it far more acceptable. I drive home and I think about you the whole way back. I text you. you won't let me go, you won't ever let me go on my terms. stop finding it sexy when I retreat, stop making me doubt decisions I make for my own self preservation. I can't do this anymore. I will undoubtedly text you back. I will probably be vague and noncommittal and you've basically already won. it's all so bloody inevitable. I'm sure you've realised that by now. I wish I hadn't.