I love you.
But I love the world around us even more.
I love our sky.
I love our sea.
I love the air we breathe.
I love the swans paddling by on a warm summers day.
I love the peace of mind when drama and pain fade away.
I love your eyes.
I love your mind.
I love your brain in its entirety.
I love your soul.
I love your heart.
Every heartbeat counts, no authority.
I love the way your smile beams through to my vision.
I love your warmth, including extra love only emissions.
I love your kisses.
I love your touch.
I love our love when love is never too much.
We stepped into a corner of an envelope. It was glass and went to the top.
I felt afraid because this contraption was familiar but never seen like this.
4 segments with a square shaft, going up and zooming down, all made of transparent glass.
I stepped in after you and we shot up. I feared for our lives.
I stretched my arms out as if my fingers would keep me in place.
At times I thought the glass would shatter and we would fall from the sky, painfully flaying limb by limb as we both fade away and die.
We were once good friends…
‘Unique, why rent when you can buy your own house. Renting is wasted money.’
Unique- so, you own your own house?
‘Yes, I pay £400 PCM on a mortgage.’
A mortgage is a glorified loan. Don’t lecture me about my money.
You don’t own shit until you own every brick, not 34% of it. Outright ownership, legit shit.
So the next time you wanna preach to me about why I rent. My money is my money and every penny is well spent.
My life is not bankrolled by handouts.
My home isn’t funded by an ex.
My home wasn’t gifted to me because I have a baby.
I’ll always earn my way and pay for my life. I don’t need a man or a fucking mortgage – I’m independent.
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It is now July 1st 2020!
Reflecting over the previous month, I admit to myself that I haven’t read as much as I had intended. I felt awful, as the only way to improve my writing is to read more – and I’ll be the first to admit, my writing is treacherous.
I have a few collections of short stories and it was hard to choose which one I shall use in the challenge I’ve set for this month. However, after careful consideration I went with The Story Love, Loss & the Lives of Women – 100 Great Short Stories Chosen by Victoria Hislop
Please feel free to join me on my reading journey, I welcome your comments below.
PS: Attached is a PDF copy of which stories I’ll be reading each day.
I sleep and I sleep and my periods of sleep are often deep.
I wiggle and I turn and above my quilt, I look like a giant worm.
I groan and I grunt and I roll but I do not spin.
I flip back my covers and smack my leg, as I swear I’ve been bitten!
Some nights are hot.
Some mornings are cold.
I whirl around inside my mind as reality unfolds.
I jump up and hit the light, scanning the sheets I had jumped off.
I can’t see anything – maybe I’m crazy? Maybe I’m still asleep?
Sometimes I sweat, other times I mumble.
‘Fuck this fucking shit! Fucking old mattress, I hate it!.’
I once stripped the bed and put everything into a hot wash.
I covered my mattress in baking-soda, as the man on YouTube said to do that.
I left it for hours…I vacuumed up most of the grains of white.
I covered my mattress with a full cover – one that seals it in tight.
I dripped mint oil all over, as the woman on YouTube said it works wonders.
I slipped into bed and for a moment, I slept peacefully.
I slapped my calves, jumped out of bed, hit the lights, grabbed the torch and went close with my eyes.
I saw nothing.
I saw blue
Inhale and ask, I’ll hear and maybe listen.
Exhale and step back…I’m hurting.
I try to save myself, but I see my veins turning blue. My favourite hue so I don’t stop it.
Say my name!
Do I need you?
Uncertainty pushes stagnation deeper and I plunge into darkness.
I need someone to help me up.
I need an anecdote. Something amusing.
I’ve already tried forgiveness.
I tried believing.
Inhale and maybe I’ll hear your voice.
Exhale, step back…I’m crying.
You’re acting kinda shady!
What’s my name?
I’m not a temporary thing.
I’m not your option.
I’m not a fuckin time stamp!
I’m not your second or third.
I’m not your escape.
I’m not your therapist.
Equally, I’m not your bitch!
Oo blue oozes out of my purpose. I find it hard to cry because I’ve done that many times before and nothing changes.
Who am I?
You like to fuck with my conscience. That’s why I’m in this position.
You act like I don’t exist.
You act like I don’t exist.
You act like I don’t exist.
Today is not a year ago!
Why am I here?
Why did you drag me here?
Why didn’t you leave me there?
Blue bleeds through the air I breathe.
I often drown into memories of your eyes.
I saw blue…
You have long hair, it’s braided.
Your lips are smoothed in red.
Your hair is sweet with coconut and honey aromas.
Your eyes are brown – I love your eyes.
Your eyelashes are curled and I know that’s all-natural.
Your lips taste like cherries.
You sound like an angel from the garden of Bliss.
Your skin is soft and I know you use coconut oil to moisturise your body.
Your body is beautiful.
Your mind is unique.
My dream girl…
You’ve stopped drinking Corona beer through fear of catching COVID19, in other words, your ignorant mind has convinced you that COVID19 has been lingering for years upon years around the world, in bottles! That many people have been buying and consuming long before the COVID19 pandemic.
During my daily walk, I see you, I see many of you walking around like no virus exists. I see you standing right next to strangers or walking by them so closely, that you’re inches apart! Only a few inches.
COVID19 is still taking lives away from our Earth.
You’re out wandering around the streets, it’s more than essential travel! How do I know? Because I see you, I’ve seen you like zombies!
COVID19 is still present and raging through our earth.
Yet, you walk aimlessly around in close contact with everyone, not a care in the world.
They may not have used the Nightingale hospital straight away, but it does not take an expert to see that they will be busy in a matter of weeks.
Social distancing markers on the floor but only a small percentage adhere to the rules. I went out this morning to purchase essentials:
- Sanitary Towels
- Drain Cleaner
- Hayfever Eyedrops
- Hayfever tablets
I arrived at the shop at 9 am, opening time. While adhering to social-distancing rules, 3 people came along and casually started browsing in the same box I was standing within – I had been in the shop for about 20 seconds.
I want this to be over as much as everyone else, but not at the cost of even more people dying – additional deaths because ignorant, selfish, detrimental people think that ‘easing lockdown’ is equal to the end of COVID19.
Coronavirus is roaming around our earth, invading people, choking them by filling their lungs with mucus and unfortunately, ending some lives. All because some of you are ignoring the rules and doing whatever you feel like – the sun is shining, let’s go outside and mingle. Let’s socialise and fuck the 2-metre social-distancing rules, I can stand/walk where the fuck I like.
‘It’s summertime bitches!’
Let’s play Russian Roulette with everyone’s lives!
Don’t worry about dying, we clap for the NHS every Thursday at 20:00.
You’re not screwed into a wall, as I move you from room to room, infrequently.
I write on you in various colours, mainly blue as blue is my favourite colour.
I often notice scratches left on the wall I once leaned you against, aghast on my face, as a tenant I’m disgraced – in my head that is. I wonder if my landlord will deduct £5 off my deposit for wear and tear?
Almost every time I start I write at the top of you in black ink ‘W/C 3RD MAY 2020 – TODO!’ was the last thing I titled you.
Rests below, dutifully so.
I list the number of things I must complete ASAP for my degree. Only, I never complete them on time. I like writing on you.
I enjoy spraying you and rubbing you out!
Lately, you have this unyielding power to inflict emotional pain through me, via the medium of reminding me that I’ve not completed anything on your list. Sometimes, I will move you away, so I don’t have to see you unless I happen to frequent the room you’re situated in.
I cheat. Because I will happily type up a new list and print it off, duplicate it in all three of my diaries…come back next week and do it again.
I promise to spray you down and clean you up, I promise I’ll do that today.
So I understand from the female voice that you flirted with a girl from Sainsbury’s and it must have been some charming words used, as your girlfriend goes on to state, ‘you don’t tell me I’m beautiful.’
Right there, was a sign of her insecurities but you never provided her with any comfort. You replied, ‘you fucking stupid bitch! I’ll fucking go to my mums, you fucking whore! You’re the one sleeping with all the men you see, fucking tramp.’
I heard you slam the same door repeatedly, then you growled. I assume she remained in one spot, as her sound never seemed to move. However, yours went through your living space. She screamed, ‘I don’t care anymore.’ You responded by shouting over her, ‘the thing is yeah, you’re a fucking stupid bitch and I can do better than you. I only told the girl she looked good; everyone needs compliments during lockdown. I don’t need a dumb bitch like you in my life. Shut the fuck up!’
Her cries continue and after a few more fights with multiple inanimate objects, you slam the front door. I heard the lock turn…
A few moments pass and her crying turns into sobbing on the phone to her friend. I form the assumption that this particular friend has heard it all before, as your girlfriend shouts, ‘What would you know? You’re not understanding what I’m saying, this is a different situation, it happened today!’
It’s around 0100 I know you’ve returned as she’s moaning, no, not the crying she was doing earlier. She’s moaning in sexual delight, you’re silent! Apart from the odd pleasurable grumble…
It’s a new day, I think this is the first day you both made it past 12 hrs before fighting, again. A glass is broken, let’s assume it was glass from dinner? I hear you shouting (yet again,) ‘Who the fuck is gonna want a skanky, dirty, fucking hoe like you?’
The day after that, I hear the police arrive, only they knock the wrong door – I hope you heard them state, ‘we are here following a report of domestic violence.’
To read words is a beautiful gift when used every day you live.