Day 20…

I have made a resolution to try and live the most normal a life as possible, to try my utmost to keep my conflicting emotions locked away while I go about my day and only let them spill out when I am with someone I completely trust. Which is a very short list at the moment.

I am very aware that this is possibly not the most healthy way to behave but at the moment it is the only way I am certain I can hold down a job, family and friends. If I allow myself to succumb to the sickening intensity of grief, confusion and anger that linger in my inner psyche at all times I fear they will drag me into a vortex of despair that I will never escape.

So I plod along.

Apart from the twins no one else knows about my recent contact with HIM, it was a lonely and difficult decision to decide not to confide in friends about it. Particularly Tessa. But there is such a feeling of intense shame that is associated with so many aspects of that situation I feel that the less I talk about it the more likely it is in weeks (oh who am I kidding…months) to come I may almost be able to convince myself it didn’t really happen. An agreed delusion: a type of social amnesia.

This decision however had enabled me to convince the rest of the world that since my arrest I had been coping quite well and had managed to even have some humour towards the situation (fake laughing at colleagues *hilarious* jokes about wanting to “Irish” up my coffee every morning has really giving me a new focus in the work place).

The twins have taken their own form of support, arriving home yesterday to find a customised Guy Fawkes with HIS name scrolled across the body was particularly inventive (and is it totally insane that I LOVED setting fire to it?!).  They have also decided to up their game when teasing me- I like to think that it is a distraction strategy but in reality I think they are completely sadistic – though unwrapping my entire make up case after they had wrapped every individual item in newspaper did keep me busy for a good hour!

I am very proud of how I am managing to portray myself as a functioning human being to the rest of the world when I am very aware that I still have a very long way to go before I am “over” this heartache. Will I ever be over it?

At the moment I can’t imagine a life when I don’t think about HIM all the time- both the good and the bad. I can’t imagine trusting someone else as completely as I did HIM. I can’t imagine looking into a different pair of eyes, saying “I love you” and knowing how much I mean it. I can’t imagine a time when I am not compelled to regularly drive past our old house.

I honestly feel as thought I am losing my mind. I am not acting like a rational, intelligent woman.

I cut all my hair short. He used to like it long- “that’ll teach him” I had thought.

Yep- definitely losing my mind.

Misty x


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Day 17…

For some unbeknown reason I still tried to defend HIM.

The twins, despite their penchant or teasing me, had had instantly developed the instinctual sibling protective gene when I had (unwillingly) confided in them about everything. I had never told anyone about what I did 3 years ago before.  They threatened to  enact every variant of medieval torture upon HIM while referring to him as any negative word they could come up with (I was actually quite impressed with the scope of their vocabulary when it came to insults); meanwhile I had sat there and tried in vain to make excuses.

I think on some level I needed to make myself feel better – trying to fathom some reason why this life mattered more than the one we were meant to have. The one I’ve secretly lit a candle for the last three years.

It was Emilia who had finally suggested looking back over old diary entries ” You need to look back Mist” she said “you need to view things in a more unbiased way”

God I hate it when my younger siblings know best.

Reliving that awful day and realising what I had written and how terribly I had felt made me realise that:

a) I would be fricking awesome in PR or politics as I definitely know how to put a positive spin on things.

b) HE is far from the charming prince I have chosen to remember him as.

It had been almost 24 hours since I had left him, alone and covered in ashes, when the phone rang.

He tried to make the same excuses I had tried to rationalize to the twins. But I had been bestowed with a renewed vigour. A strength of will and a refusal to be overcome with the idiocy that was the fact that, despite all these recent revelations and understandings, underneath it all. I still loved him.

I sat there and listened as the ridiculous justifications poured from his mouth.

Anger overcome me and as he finally asked “Misty are you still there?” after I had remained silent for his entire spiel, I managed to finally spit out

“I hope you’re happy”

Before hanging up the phone and going to sleep on the bed which still had an unopened silver rattle stored underneath.

Misty x


3 years ago…

Well it’s done. I suppose I should feel relieved it’s all over, everyone at the clinic were so nice and it was exactly like they said it would be: quick and painless.

“It’s just a little tadpole” the nurse had called it. It was meant to reassure me, like a tadpole was insignificant. Instead it made me think of something precious and fragile. Something to protect.

He had been wonderful obviously, had said all the right things. Totally my decision, he’ll support me whatever I decide. Yet he had made so many other little subtle comments about how young we were, and how we hadn’t been going out that long, and how it would definitely happen “one day”. And he seemed to convey through use of clever disguised words that “one day” was unequivocally not now. Not today.

If my intuition hadn’t already made it clear to me what his real thoughts on the situation were his enormous smile, bear hug and “ohhh Mist you’ll see it’ll be for the best- maybe we can go skiing in a few weeks now” after I had suggested the procedure had definitely cemented it in my mind.

Skiing! Like I wanted to be jovial and celebrate the whole thing- quick let’s hit the slopes now there’s no baby to damage or save for!

I had tossed and turned over the decision but what else could I do? Forcing a baby onto a father that had made it clear he wasn’t ready wouldn’t be fair on anyone.

I went to the clinic.

He came with me and held my hand, he stroked my hair and asked me if I wanted magazines. Yet not once did he ask me “are you sure?”…even when I stared at the exit with heavy tears in my eyes.

After it was over he kissed my forehead and took me home so I could rest.

 He went into the living room and put on the TV and started giggling at a comedy: completely unaware that I was using the pillow to stifle my relentless sobs.

Misty x

The rest of day 16…

The words had barley escaped his lips and already I had dove at him throwing myself into a flurry of passion and thoughtlessness, allowing myself to become lost in his embrace, in his perfect kiss. The tears were still rushing furiously down my face, but now they were tears of joy and relief. He was kissing me; trailing his hands down my spine letting me ruffle his soft hair, listening to him as he continued to whisper “I Love you’s” in each gasp for breath.

I allowed myself to get sucked into 8 glorious minutes of pure, carnal passion before a shear shard of emotion pierced through my minds eye like a lightning bolt. I suddenly saw HER face.

I pushed him off me.

“How can you possibly love me when you chose her” I said, my rollercoaster of emotion swiftly landing me back into anger.

“I didn’t Mist…it wasn’t like that…I wish I could take the one stupid night back. The one that changed everything!” he replied

“What are you talking about? it was going on for weeks- she messaged me, you admitted it”

“Look you’ve got it all wrong. We got together once at that party, you know the time, you and I had a row…I’m not making excuses but that’s just what happened. What happened the last few weeks though it wasn’t an affair Misty. I need you to understand this. I thought you hated me but now I know you love me… we can work this out”

“Work what out!? You asked her to marry you! have you completely lost your min -you cheated on me, threw all our memories into a little box room and when I left you didn’t even have the balls to chase after me” I retorted

“I didn’t think I had a chance! I didn’t CHOOSE her Misty. It was circumstances” he said

“Oh well that’s ok then! Please enlighten me what set of bloody circumstances makes it perfectly reasonable for you to propose to another girl yet now that I’ve kissed you think that we can live happily ever after?”

“Look Misty…it’s hard…I had to keep seeing her, talking to her, trying to sort things out.”

“Sorting what out exactly, what was left to sort out after your sordid night? And why does that require a proposal?”

“Misty….she’s pregnant with my baby” he said.

It was as though I had an outer body experience, before I was aware of what was even going on I had stood up reached over to the counter and grabbed the urn containing his mothers ashes and hurled it as hard as I could at the wall. I wanted him to feel pain and loss. Raw, deep, primal emotional pain. Like I was.

I didn’t even hear his response I ran to my car with that last image seared into my mind. HIM, covered in soft grey ash, sat in a room littered with photos of our memories. A room that would soon become a nursery.

I made it all the way to my bed before I was violently sick.

Misty x

Day 15 continued…

A house is just bricks and mortar right? I mean that’s what everyone says.

Then how come as soon as I step into the hallway I feel an overwhelming sense of warmth, calm and familiarity- like old friends that have finally been reunited.

I shuffle across the delicate shag-pile that we had picked out together and gently run my fingertips across the designer wallpaper that HE had insisted we didn’t need but then bought for me anyway. My eyes scan every surface, allowing myself to drink in the intricate details I had loved so much – chips in the paint where the Christmas decorations had hung, stains on the wall from a food fight, scuffs on the couch where he wouldn’t take his shoes off even though I asked 5 times.

  I’m so overcome with gazing at the small details of my old home that I almost forget HE is walking through the door behind me.

“Why don’t you go and get a shower” he says “there are still some old clothes of yours in the spare room”

I can’t make eye contact with him and I still can’t bring myself to talk, so instead I acknowledge his suggestion by slowly edging up the stairs towards our old bathroom.

It’s the silly things that set you off.

I had been in HIS presence for around an hour now and despite the overwhelming despair, the crippling heartache that had invaded me, I had managed to keep myself together. Admittedly I was an awkward shell of the witty, happy, energetic girl I used to be in HIS presence- but I wasn’t a complete emotional car crash.

Until I went into the spare room.

It was eerily similar to how I had left it, the whole room was. Except now a small plastic box stood in the corner of the room, filled with the few belongings I had expected- some gym clothes I had bought on impulse, an old dressing gown, 2 old DVD’s and a small Russian doll.

But he had also put in other items- he had filled the box with valentines cards I had made for him, love letters I had carefully constructed, tickets from concerts we had attended together. And endless photographs of US. Precious mantelpiece moments that would be regarded as mere home décor to guests, but to US they had always been more.

I hadn’t even realised I had sank to my knees. I fingered through pictures of a smiling, happy girl I didn’t  even know anymore, sobbing furiously. How could he dispose of me, OF US, so flippantly? Is this all he thought of the time we shared, he didn’t even want to keep one image? He could just put them all in a box and forget about them. Like he forgot about me.

I am barley breathing when I hear the footsteps pacing along the hallway.

He looks from me to the pile of photos now strewn across the floor and he sinks down to the floor beside me and without saying a word he pulls me into him.

For the second time today I am hugging him.

“Do you love her?” I question through sobs

I pull away, wipe the tears from my face and gaze right into his eyes, I calm my breathing and will my resolve.

“Do you love her” I ask again determinedly.

He takes a moment, gazing around at photos of us holding hands on a carnival ride, smiling as we dip our toes into a stream, laughing as we wave the keys to a new home.

“Not like I love you” he finally said.

Misty x

Day 16…

I ran into HIS arms.

I don’t even know why, it was like some primal reflex. A reaction that had been rehearsed so many times before it was now encoded into my DNA; part of my very being.

I was hugging him. I didn’t care that I had just been arrested, I didn’t care that I looked like crap and smelt like sick, I didn’t even care that he had broken my heart. I felt his warmth and smelt his familiar aroma and I felt safe. I felt normal.

“Come on Stormy…can’t be that bad can it – bet you looked cute on the mug shot” he said

I pulled away from him, how could he be nice to me. Doesn’t he realise that it’s probably the worst thing he could do right now.

My reaction had said it all. He looked nervously away, and then gestured for me to follow him to the car.

We drove in silence. Staring at the landscape and listening as the rattling of the rain merged in with muzzy radio sport reports; two parts that had once made a whole . Now like strangers who could think of no words to fill the void.

 We pulled outside the twins’ flat but something wouldn’t let me get out of the car. My hand awkwardly fumbled with the seat belt a few times- but I kept resisting and instead just sat there staring out the rain fogged window, listening to him breathe besides me.

He must have sensed my reluctance, I mean of course he did. No one in the world understood me as well as he did. Not even me sometimes.

“Look why don’t you come back to the old place for a bit, you don’t have to talk to me. Promise. You still have a box of things there anyway and you can just chill out and have a shower away from the gruesome twosome in there….you know they’ll be like a dog with bone when they see you in this state.”

I remained silent, trying to will my eyes not to produce a flood of tears.

It killed me to not be with him, to have him sat within touching distance of him and yet not be able to actually touch him. To not be able to kiss him or ruffle his hair. To not attempt to change over the sport station and have him sigh dramatically as we listen to Classical FM. To not be able to tell him about my day. To not be able to share our little inside jokes. To not be able to elbow him when he playfully calls me Stormy when I cry. To not be able to tell him how much I completely adore him.

Yet it somehow seemed worse to leave the car and then be in my room. I had always ran to him when I was hurt and upset, so despite him being the cause at this point he seemed like a sort of solution to. Anything to avoid feeling so unbearably lonely.

My seat belt remained untouched and after a few moments he started the engine to drive to the home that we had once shared.

Misty x

Day 15…

I had refreshed the page 5 or 6 times before I actually accepted that what I was reading was true.

And then I carried on with my week.

I didn’t cry, I didn’t get angry, I didn’t curl up in a foetal position.

I didn’t write in a diary for the first time in 12 years.

I went to work and pasted on a smile at the condescending glances, I allowed the twins to attempt to be nice to me, I went for lunch with dad “to take my mind of THINGS”. But in reality I spent the best part of a week feeling completely numb. I felt like a moon that didn’t have a planet anymore, and now I was left to drift ceaselessly and aimlessly into the ever expanding abyss of deep space. And what’s worse is I allowed myself to succumb to this zombie state and to remain like it.

until Friday.

Tessa encouraged me to join her at the pub, I had no feelings on the matter. I didn’t want to go nor did I not want to go. My brain had become so unreceptive to anything around me, as I adopted this charade of “living”, that I couldn’t even display an opinion anymore.

So I followed Tessa like a little lost lamb and went to the pub; where the solution to my woes,as usual, did not miraculously appear at the bottom of my wine glass.

I had started to lighten up after a few drinks, I still felt almost as if I wasn’t there- if someone had told in “sixth sense” style that I was a ghost I think I would have probably believed them. But I did have a few genuine smiles- which was a start.

And then Tim from the office arrived, I hadn’t seen him since my ridiculous faux pas. Granted I don’t particularly like feeling chronic embarrassment, but it was the first real emotion I’d experienced in days.

Tim strolled over to our table, he sat down and said “Oh no I’ve forgotten my wallet…Misty can you see if you’ve got a magic staircase behind the table that leads to my flat” and he flashed the most mischievous and knowing grin. I suddenly felt alive for 5 seconds.

Then I instantly felt ridiculous. I had been living a zombie life for a week despite everyone’s attempts to cheer me up, and now one little bit of attention from a man and I feel good again. What ever happened to all those ideas of feminism I used to spout out? All the lectures I had given to friends about how they didn’t need a man to complete them- that to have true self worth they should be completely happy on their own. What a pile of rubbish. I’m such a hypocrite.

However the wine had started to take definite effect by now- all my logic and oppositions didn’t seem to matter as much as they would have to a sober mind. And when Tim sidled up next to me, tucked my hair behind my ear, and whispered “You scrub up well Bailey” I knew I was done for.

As we walked out into the cool crisp night air, Tessa giggling behind with Tim’s friend Mark, Tim grabbed my waist and pulled me in for a kiss. It should have been wonderful.

Gorgeous, funny, intelligent man. Check.

Interested in you. Check.

Beautiful, starry night. Check.

But I instantly felt repulsed. Tim didn’t know how to kiss me like HE did.

Tim didn’t place a hand on the small of my back, Tim didn’t sweetly twirl a strand of my hair around his finger, Tim didn’t lean his forehead against mine after the kiss and gaze into my eyes for just longer than a second. It was all wrong.

“I’ve got to go” I said frantically as Tim looked at me wide eyed: hurt and confused.

Then I got in my car.

I seem to be making some phenomenally bad decisions of late- I think it is some sort of unconscious self sabotage- but this one goes straight to the top of the list.

Why get in my car when I live a 5 minute walk away? Laziness- no. Coldness – no. Tiredness – no.

I decided it was completely imperative to see HIM. I needed to talk to HIM and it definitely could not wait.

So I started to drive to HIS house, I had been in the car a mere 3 minutes when I saw the blue flashing lights, my heart sank- I knew what was coming.

I thought there would be nothing more degrading than being read your rights in a local police station at 2am after blowing positive for drink driving, while surrounded by lager louts- who as you are being read said rights decide to dive at each other before being forcibly removed by police officers. Then they told me they were keeping me in a cell for the night.

They took away most of my belongings- I know it’s health and safety protocol, and obviously completely my fault- but what was I going to do with a watch?

Before they took me, sobbing and steaming drunk, to a cell they asked me if there was anyone I would like to notify. I immediately spilled out the first number I thought of, the only person I wanted to know about what I had done.

Then I spent the night in a police cell.

I woke up yesterday morning, dizzy and confused, mouth like sandpaper and for about 3 minutes I had no idea where I was. I had very little recollection of the night after Tim’s kiss and my head was pounding too furiously for me to even attempt to piece the fuzzy memories into something tangible at this moment.

The police officers finally released me around midday after taking fingerprints, DNA samples and informing me I was twice the legal limit when I was pulled over( and this will undoubtedly lead to a driving ban if not worse).

I used the toilets in reception to splash water onto my face and couldn’t believe the reflection that gazed back at me. I didn’t recognize this girl with wild hair, dark circles, sick stains over my clothes (oh god yes I was sick in the middle of the night!). I edged nervously and ashamedly back to the reception and after handing me my possessions and court date the police officer informed me my notified person was waiting in the waiting room to take me home as my car was impounded.

“Notified person?” I said groggily

“yes Miss Bailey, the number you gave us last night, the person you wanted us to notify about your arrest”

It all suddenly came tumbling back into my head, a flurry of moments like an old movie you’ve suddenly remembered- every scene pixel perfect.

I gazed through the glass doors to the waiting room area and my hazy recollections were confirmed.

HE was sat there, staring right back at me.

Misty x


Day 6 …

I have done  something I am excruciatingly ashamed of.

It had started with Emilia, explaining to me in my hung-over condition (which I think is a good enough excuse for slight loss of mind)

“You need to do something to get him mad at you, you never really had the stereotypical slanging match- which considering how much of a complete ass he was really surprises me Mist!”


It was true. I had been so uncomfortably saintly about the whole horrid thing up until this point.

I had finally been messaged by HER to confirm that all my suspicions were in fact true and they had been secretly together for weeks now. Most people would assume my initial thoughts should have been to shout, scream, key his car, throw his clothes out of the window.

But I didn’t do any of these things.

I can only think now that my mind refused to completely register this information as some sort of trauma defence. All I know is I gave him a kiss as he headed to work, then quietly and calmly packed all my things. I left a small note on the coffee table which bluntly said “I know everything”.

I didn’t even bother to include any expletives.

And I hadn’t heard from him since. Not one word.

“The thing is Mist” Emilia continued “you haven’t really had any closure, he’s moved on, the rat that he his, and you’re carrying all this anger around when you should be yelling it all at him”

“Well I can’t exactly knock his door 3 weeks later and suddenly go “Oh I’m ready to be mad at you now, please stand there while I throw all my hatred at you until I feel better” I said

“Well that’s why you get him mad first” William said.

And then they told me the plan, and I promise you at the time it had seemed perfect, and clever and brilliant and I was sure it would make me feel better.

Of course it did none of these things.

“So” Emilia said “my friend Amy works at the beauty shop in town and she said that HIS new piece has to go in EVERY week for like mass body bleaching. Honestly Mist she said she’d have like a proper handlebar moustache and furry arms if she didn’t keep up her appointments religiously”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a massive exaggeration, also is Amy allowed to tell you stuff like this?”

“Oh who cares! Listen to the plan -we make HIM really annoyed at us, you know how protective he gets about his girlfriends.” Emilia added

It was true HE had always been furiously protective. Once at a party a drunken idiot with a clear cut case of short man syndrome had decided to zoom in on me making harsh comments about my (6ft) height.

“Doesn’t it make you feel really unfeminine with all these gorgeous petite girls around you” he had spluttered through his whiskey stanched breath.

My face had turned a glorious shade of magenta as this man continued to spill a variety of insults my way. Then suddenly HE was there at my side. “Heard your comments mate, truly hilarious, I guess your girlfriend doesn’t look as amazing as mine and that’s why you’re being a bitter old twerp. Even though I feel nothing but deep pity for you let me promise you that if you even mutter one more negative word at my incredibly hot girlfriend you will live to regret it. Oh and by the way, you know all those supermodels you saliva over like the pathetic little creep you are. Each one is taller than this beautiful woman in front of you”.

“Misty!” Emilia shrieked dragging me painfully out of another precious memory “you’re not even listening to me!”

And then she explained the plan.Which I somehow stupidly agreed to.

So we logged onto the internet and this is when I made the ridiculous mistake. We ordered a giant gorilla costume and had it gift wrapped and specially delivered to HIS work, with a little note attached saying

“I heard you like this look now”.

So simple. The twins and I had laughed for hours after it  (I’m sure their immaturity is contagious).

It was only when I awoke the next morning that I it dawned on me how pathetic I had been. My stomach filled with a deep nauseating feeling as I at once considered how offensive and spiteful the gesture was. I tried to reason my logic, I ran over the events again in my mind, nothing helped. I felt like crap. I was in the wrong. Completely.

What was even worse than this pathetic act of revenge I hadn’t had even a smidge of a response from HIM even though having confirmation from the delivery company hours earlier that it had been received. No anger. No screams of rage. It seemed so pointless now.

Hours had dragged by and I resolved to attempt to forget the whole stupid thing. Maybe even apologise?

Then he responded.

And once he again sent a million daggers at my already painfully broken heart, I was sent spiralling into a new oblivion of pain and confusion: feeling breathless and irreparable . If I wasn’t so hurt I’d almost admire the brilliance of it. Simple, yet so unbelievably effective.

He updated his status.

“She said YES! When it’s right, it’s right”

Misty x


Day 4 +5

Two days have merged into one. Granted that’s how I have felt almost every millisecond since my heart was completely obliterated: a series of monotonous routines I have been forced to repeat to keep my body alive and functioning. It has felt more like existing than living these last few weeks.

However that is not the reason for the merging of my posts today.

I went to work yesterday with renewed vigour, granted it was the weird and inappropriate ramblings of my younger brother that had provoked this, but never the less I had a new goal. REBOUND.

I could finally allow myself to act like a normal twenty something and have a casual fling with no strings and then spill all the tantalising details, a la sex in the city, as a flock of my girlfriends gasp and applaud.

What I did not anticipate is that after being in a committed (on my freaking part anyway) relationship has effectively destroyed my ability to converse with men that I find even remotely attractive.

This realisation did not come to me from some beautiful logic, some integral understanding of the innermost workings of my own psyche, some sage advice from someone who is learned in all things break up. No. This realisation came after a ridiculous case of what can only be described as “trial and error”.

I had been discussing with Tessa at lunch my master rebound plan, when she suggested (and thus now I hold her entirely accountable) that why not target someone in the office? So simple, there are 12 floors I could find someone and never see them again.

“Well there is this really cute guy I’ve noticed around called Tim”

and soon (it honestly felt like 30 seconds) Tessa had managed to find out that Tim worked on the 9th floor; She then proceeded to engineer it that we needed to deliver a “message” to him.

We tumbled into the toilets like naughty school girls giggling as Tessa attempted to tame my hair as I applied a sheer gloss to my lips.

“Right so babes this is the plan yeh” Tessa drawled “You just go in all casual, CATCH TIM’s ATTENTION, then after you’ve delivered the “message” casually drop into conversation about how a few of us are going to the pub tonight”

It seemed so faultless.

It started so well too, I’d seen Tim before so sauntered over to him with our “message” ensuring I engaged eye contact (as per Tessa’s instruction. I then casually mentioned about the pub (he had said “sounds good” which in man talk translates as “”I’ll be there”).

 Then my brain for some unbeknown reason decides to sabotage me. As I walk out the office I turn around to flash a smile at Tim, and  I have an epiphany. I am stood in front of a desk and I think that the most hilarious thing in the entire world will be for me to pretend to walk down an invisible staircase “This will be hilarious” my mind yells to me “How can he not think this will be an attractive quality in the opposite sex” it reasons.

Tim looks at me like I have completely lost the plot. I get up fast and run down stairs in full on panic mode to Tessa.

“babes you’re overthinking it, I bet it wasn’t that bad” (it definitely was).

“I bet he shows up at the pub tonight” (He didn’t).

I went home after drinking far too many glasses (bottles?) of wine and as I walk into the living room I see the twins hunched over my laptop giggling like idiots (you would never think they were 22 year old adults with jobs and a flat).

“You know Misty when you were a teenager you were much better at hiding your diaries” William laughs

“do you know what I’ve noticed though” Emilia pipes in

“What apart from the fact that she can’t distinguish know from now and think a snake “shreds” its skin?” Will said

“well it’s called “heartache and revenge” yet there is no revenge in it. Like NONE. I mean it’s a bit morbid Mist, I mean are you actually trying to get people to top themselves?” again they both burst into annoying hysterics.

“You too are so completely out of order” I scream before attempting to storm into my bedroom, while in my alcohol induced haze I instead enter the closet, I hear their absolute shrieks of glee before I bump into the wall and storm back out again.

“Trying to get to Narnia were you sis?” said Will, as Emilia is literally doubled up crying laughing.

I marched into my room and attempted to sleep it off.

Yesterday was spent having yet another “sick day” (this time due to the copious wine and embarrassment oh and of course the never ending debilitating broken heart).

Just as I was about to switch off and sleep (for like the 6th time today) the twins knock at my door.

“What do you want now?” I shout at them

“Look about yesterday, it was bad of us. Sorry” William said “and about this lack of revenge in your diary”

He exchanged knowing glances with Emilia

“We think we have an idea to rectify that”.

Misty x

Day 3 …

So my initial plan was that no one in work would find out about HIM- at least until I am suitably recovered and have crafted my life into a spectacular movie worthy spectacular- in which HE has no lines. This would be perfectly do-able I had said to myself. The only people in the office who knew were:

1 – My friend Tess – barmy but totally trustworthy.

2 – Deb from accounting (who happens to live with HIS best friend) but I think her full acknowledgment of the girl code; who is in the wrong in this scenario, plus a few steely glances and a telepathic “DON’T SAY A DAMNED WORD” from both Tessa and I had kept her silent.

Today it all changed.

I had been doing completely fine until a series of ridiculous (and alarmingly perfectly timed) events lead to my complete public breakdown. The events were as follows:

Number 1 – As I made a cup of tea, Coldplay’s “Yellow” blasted out of the crackling radio, a song which instantly transported me to a hideous tent, a freezing cold night, a ridiculous attempt at skinny dipping in ice cold water but most of all US. Blissfully, sickeningly, irrevocably happy US.

Number 2 – I was cradling a stupid smiling kitten mug which, as well as making me feel now ridiculous, also suddenly created crazy cat lady premonitions.

Number 3 – Jackie the receptionist walked into the small kitchen at the exact moment my eyes started to brim with tears.

Jackie is one of those women that has the most overwhelming maternal aura, her deep chocolate eyes offered me such understanding and sympathy at that moment and as soon as she pulled me in for a hug I knew there was no going back. I let out this stream of ugly choking sobs as I buried my head into Jackie’s perfectly perfumed sweater and allowed myself to be caressed by this woman I barley know. It took all my strength to pull myself from her embrace. After effectively telling her my entire life story of course.

Needless to say by lunch everyone knew. This was not ideal. 

I don’t not what it is about break-up cliché’s, maybe they have been repeated too many times to have substance anymore. All I know is the tirade of “You were too good for him anyway”, “Chin up” and the worst “Plenty of fish” did nothing to ease my pain and frankly just made me irritable.

When I finally arrived home (well not my home obviously, but the home of my siblings where I know live…temporarily) I was desperate to jump in the shower and just have a early night.

Will and Emilia sat on the sofa as I enter, the remnants of this disgusting day must have plastered themselves to my face as they exchange eye gestures before Will decided to say “Woahh quick Emms you get the wine to placate her,  I’ll get a weapon, just in case she attacks” at this point they both burst into a fit of giggles finding themselves completely hilarious. It must be a twin thing.

I slouch in my room grumpily and as I load up the computer Will gingerly opens the door

“You know I could probably beat him up…I mean if you really wanted me to?”

I shoo him away just before Emilia pokes her head round the door

“Thing is sis, I mean I know this sucks and stuff…. but you’re just not acting NORMAL. I mean come on! You really need to sit back, have a deep think and realise there are bigger things going on in the world. You need to ask yourself – how many times have you thought about Syria today? I mean really Misty, how many?”

I throw a pillow at her head and she scarpers.

Just as I go to slam the door to block out their incessant giggling I hear William mutter “I know I shouldn’t say these things about one of my sisters but…Maaaan she needs to get laid”

And despite my fury, my revulsion at today and complete annoyance with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.

I think: he might be onto something there.

Misty x