This isn't my diary. Diaries are secret books kept hidden away from the world beneath the bed. This is my story, my tiny bubble of non-fiction, of how this girl met the boy.

Tuesday, 21 August 2012


Sleep tortured me that night.
It sat in the corner of the room and watched as I curled myself as tight as I could and tried to somehow wipe my mind of the all the mess. When sleep finally dragged me under it stabbed at my skin with memories and flickering images until I woke, my body sweating and aching whilst I tried to cry quietly so I didn't wake K.
I saw dawn seep under the curtains, marking the beginning of a new day. I blinked, my eyes felt so sore, I brought my hand up to touch my face and could feel the make-up and tears smeared across my skin. It even hurt to swallow. I wanted water, wanted it so badly everything burned. But I couldn't move. Yesterday I couldn't stay still, didn't want to just stop, but now, my bones felt like somebody had hollowed them out and filled them with sand whilst I drowned in my sleep.
I don't know how long I stayed staring at the floor. When I heard K's alarm I finally breathed in as much as I could and turned over onto my back, stretching out my cramped limbs and wincing as the pain gnawed through my mussels.
I must have dozed whilst K was in the shower, because I woke with such force when she opened the curtains, letting the white light spill through the window and over me, drenching me in cold reality.
I closed my eyes and allowed myself to remember, just for a moment.
I remembered him sitting up in bed reading a book about some philosopher...the way I would roll over and let my hand rest on his chest whilst I drifted in and out of warm sleep to the sound of him turning the pages.
Just stop.
I begged myself to stop thinking of all the good times, but it was no use. I wanted to run back.
But something, something somewhere deep down at the very back of me knew I was there for a reason. That reason might have been lost to me right then, but the reminder of it's existence was just enough.
'Will you go to work?' K asked.
I shook my head.
'Are you going to your parents?'
I swallow hard. 'I need to tell my mum. I'll leave now with you and drive to their house.'
As I get into my car fresh tears fall. I start the engine and whisper to myself.
'Hey mum, guess what? I'm moving back in.'


  1. Sometimes you have to think of the good times, because if you don't eventually the hatred will take over and you will define all that time as a me...I know. :/

  2. I'm still waiting for the next part :P

  3. Hey sweetie, thanks for following me on gfc, I would love it if you could follow me on bloglovin xxxx