Sunday, 8 May 2016

Tumbling Down

Its starting not to matter anymore, the rules. If I had a gun I would put it to my mouth right now and pull the trigger, even though my family would find me, even though it would create an image they could never ever erase from their minds. I’d apologise but I’d do it anyway.

There are no un-locked up pills in the house, nothing that’s fast enough. I want to try and last until tomorrow so they don’t have to clean up the mess, I would rather wait until Friday, after Samuels birthday. Try and ease a little bit of the burden but the more I breathe, the less I care.

I am not ‘me’ anymore, well not ‘her’ I suppose and I can’t keep trying to live her life, it’s not even my life and I can’t keep trying to fake it – it isn’t real, it’s a fucking lie existing in a pretend world. It feels like it’s all a test for a course I didn’t enrol in, and I know now why it hasn’t been the same since, I know now that she died that day and the memories were told to me, given to me to uphold by me if she left, but I don’t actually have her memories, I only have her stories inside a mind confused by the attempt of two people, one who is no longer alive, to share the real estate when they had separate lives and separate fates.

That is why the playground is nothing but schematics and fluttering litter, I was never even there, I’m just along for the ride and she’s the fucking quitter so stop blaming me. It was her – she lied, lied to you and me and everyone else to, her choice became yours, became mine and I hate her for it, why did she mess it up and drag me down with her before she did a runner and left me holding the shit in a body I don’t want and in a life that doesn’t fit.

Me? Who the fuck am I anyway? I’m just the observer so give me a fucking break, I was supposed to go with her but something went wrong and she fucked up the order, now please just let me out now I need to be free from the hoarder of all this pain and illusion before the shrinks and the doctors hold me down and diagnose a delusion where there isn’t one anymore.

Prove that the unreal is real, tell me how, go on tell me what to say, tell me what to scream, tell me now! But you can’t cause you don’t know either, guess I’ll have to tell you what you want to hear just to please you so you don’t lock me up wave goodbye and throw away the key.  

Her? The girl you knew, the one you had before, she was the driver, she had the memories and the choices easy and hard- which she made, she took them with her to the grave. Now take the time to yell at her like I do, or mourn for her as you will too but she’s already gone she made her choice and its fruitless to argue, but say what you want, tell her how much you really hate her, it doesn’t matter she can’t hear you.

I don’t have the knowledge or the will to drive the way she did, it wasn’t what I signed up for this time round and I’m fucking trapped on the shelf in a glass jar and I can’t get off the lid.

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