*NEW* Lost in Reality - chp. 4 posted!!
xChessie-x:
Waking up is so hard now knowing I’ll never hear his voice, touch him, or tell him I love him again.
It’s been like this for two weeks now. Every noise in my house haunts and teases me with every creaky floor board I hear and every ring of the phone. My heart leaps in hope that he’ll one day just ring up out of the blue or he’ll walk through the door. But I know he won’t. It’s like I’m missing part of my heart, and a plaster (band-aid) has been stuck on - just to keep me going for a couple more days. Until my tears come, and like water on a plaster it comes off and my wound is opened again. Some days, I sit there and cry for hours, in my solitude, my wounds fresh and stinging. The music I put on doesn’t drown out the sound of guilt that I hear my conscious scream at me.
The socialisation and fresh air that people offer me doesn’t help. The last time I got some ‘fresh air’ was when I stepped outside to get some. So I stood just outside the door, breathed in and the ice cold winter air cut straight through me. It just added to the pain inside. Cold and quite breathless, I went back in.
Meanwhile, back in my reality. My eyes look around the room looking for something, I guess. Then, I see at a picture of my sister’s wedding day, I doubt I’ll ever marry now. I’ve lost my soul mate... I feel my mind wondering again. I start to remember the big bout of unrequited love when I was 16, with a guy called Patrick. It never worked out so I figured it just must have been me. I must have been this ugly ginger haired freak that wanted him to love me so much that I tried so hard. It kinda feels like this now as I lay on the sofa. I feel like I’m never going to be loved again, I feel like this is the end of my world, maybe this is the end of my world? I’d cut myself before, when I was younger and swore to my parents that I’d not think about doing it and never do it again. So far I hadn’t – It was like a miniature cure until now. I push the thought out of my mind, and preoccupy myself with a tipple of wine and my favourite TV show. Except this is show is silent and all I hear is his voice playing over and over in my mind like a CD on repeat. Every day he’s gone I hear the Texan accent in his voice that little bit less... It’s just like the image of his face in my mind, just gets weaker. I can’t see him, or hear him again. I’m forbidden...
xChessie-x:
feel free to comment everyone :)
Stelio Kontos:
Continue, please.
I'd like to read more.
Chaavik:
Continue with the story please. The beginning was great. No need for anything to be changed since it sounded like a solid beginning with the right elements (or circumstances if you will) to a story about the young woman and her memories.
xChessie-x:
I walked around the shops for the first time in three weeks - only because my cupboards were getting bare. Somehow, I got the feeling that there were more spiders in my cupboards than food. Today was also a first for many things like showering, cleaning and putting some of the washing that had been building up in the laundry basket for the past three weeks into the washing machine. It felt weird not putting his boxers, socks and various other items in. It made me realise that it was just me now in the house.
Walking around the shop wasn’t the same without him either as he wasn’t putting junk food in the trolley or singing to the music on the supermarket radio – it’s weird how I just missed the little things that he did. I just walked around aimlessly until I saw something I needed. Normally, I liked to make some effort before I walk out my house but today I wore a track suit as it was the last thing I owned that wasn’t on the washing line, and my auburn hair was flopped around my face more lifelessly than ever. My trainers squeaked against the white granite floor as I walked around the aisles. I felt lost.
Another thing that’s weird is that whenever I look bad I always manage to ‘bump into’ people I know! As usual I get the “how are you coping?” and “it must be hard”, but this time it was someone who I hadn’t spoke to in years. He was called Ricky.
Ricky was one of my fiancée’s old mates from school, he was a bit of a sleaze ball back then and he still looked like a creep now. His greasy, black hair stuck to his face, and his breath smelt.
“I didn’t know you shopped ‘ere doll...” Rick said in his husky 40-a-day smoker’s voice.
“I...I...I’m not usually here at this time of the day” I managed to say, without gagging on the reek of this breath.
“You look lost... Come with me, I’ll help you shop. Don’t worry doll”, and then before I could stop him, Ricky had grabbed my basket and had put it inside his shopping trolley “we can catch up while we shop!” he continued.
My face must have looked horrified. I couldn’t think of anything worse but so far he was the only person that hadn’t used “how are you coping?” and “it must be hard” to describe my situation. Yes, he smelt, yes, he had just annoyed me, and no, I wasn’t going to pass up the first offer of male company I’d had in a while.
Rick spoke of his failed marriage of four years to old school friend of mine, and about his two children that were now two and four years old. Then he asked me about how I’d been and I was dumbstruck as I couldn’t think of anything to do, tears came to my eyes as I placed the tin of baked beans into my basket.
“Did I say something?” Rick asked, I guess I’d somewhat adapted to the smell of his breath as I could no longer smell its intensity.
“No...” I replied in a somber tone, then reality hit me.
“It’s just that three weeks ago... Will died”
Navigation
[0] Message Index
[#] Next page