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

 

Day 2…

Today was spent being “sick” from work- (I’m pretty sure that being overtaken by vacuous space where love used to live definitely qualifies as an illness).

What has my day of moping and fast food and chick flicks taught me – apart from the fact that I have embodied every cliché of every romantic movie EVER.

1. I don’t actually hate HIM – I hate what he did and I hate how he made me feel. I can’t however untangle myself from the emotions and memories that we created – it is a confusing and painful cocktail. It’s funny the things you can’t forget. We created hundreds of moments together and I don’t know why one specific memory decides to keep replaying itself in my mind – like it’s stuck on a constant loop that I can’t pause.

This unrelenting memory seems trivial compared to the BIG moments. And yet it still keeps playing.

I had came home from a crummy day at work, had parked really far away from the house and after dragging myself through a giant hailstorm by time I got into the house I was furious. I know what you’re thinking – he had a million tea light candles or a dozen red roses. No.

He was microwaving a pizza in gym trousers looking tired but (I hate this bit) completely effortlessly cute. I slouched on the sofa and he breezed into the living room and handed me the spare key to my car.

“I researched how to fix your central locking and ordered the part for this key online. It should work now- you won’t have to fumble with the keyhole in the rain anymore” he said, as if it were nothing.

As I lay in bed that night realising that I had flippantly mentioned my annoyance about my keys months ago he reached across, placed his hands on my hip bones and gave a little squeeze. Then we went to sleep.

This memory keeps attacking me like an unrelenting wave: drowning and suffocating me.

I need to go to work tomorrow. I need to reclaim my life. I need to learn how to swim in these waters.

Misty x

 

Day 1….

“When I say I love you, please believe it’s true. When I say forever, know I’ll never leave you. When I say goodbye, promise me you won’t cry. Cause the day I’d be saying that would be the day I die.”

6 months ago “HE” wrote this on a little note and left it on a bedside table and gooey silly sentimental me honestly felt like I belonged in a Disney film and that everything was good and right with the world- any moment right now bluebirds will fly through my window and help me get dressed.

Now horribly broken bitter me sees it as a ridiculous ploy, a mask of deception a pathetic Google search of the word “love” brings that quote up straight away. Obviously he loves you so freaking much he picks the first quote he finds, nothing personal or romantic. I want to shake my stupid past self for falling for it.

One month ago while borrowing “HIS” phone as I couldn’t be bothered to charge my own- something that should be perfectly fine with someone you have been with for 4 WHOLE YEARS OF MY LIFE!!! Anyway as I  go to the key pad, blissfully unaware, a beeping sound comes through the phone.

I have know come to associate that beep with the breaking of my own heart – which is utterly inconvenient as every damned smart phone seems to have the same generic beep. At the moment a simple ride to work consists of (at last count) 85 heartbreaks. A never ending series of torturous little noises which create a visceral reaction where I feel all at once wounded, destroyed and completely pathetic. I hate myself for it.

What did this ominous beep mean? I hear you ask… 7 simple words.

I’ve always been a fan of words, I am an avid reader and have always kept diaries. I love how words are used to create new worlds- a sanctuary for the mind, to offer insights and opinions that you wouldn’t have been aware of on your own. I love how we craft our language to offer true representations of the emotions which consume us. Anger, love, sorrow – they can all be articulated so eloquently with use of the right words.

There must be irony in the fact that the written word I love was the first thing to pierce my heart so expertly.

“I miss you, sexy man of mine” 7 words from an unknown number

It took me a long time to type them: they are heavy with emotion. Saturated in my tears.

Of course he denied it.

Of course stupid past me believed it for a while.

It took all of 2 weeks for it to become clear that he was a lying, cheating, disgusting man child and all his promises and declarations were borrowed clichés that had no real meaning behind them.

So words, (his words of deceit, his words of untrue love, the words in THAT text) have broken me. I feel, right now in this moment, like the shredded skin of a snake. I was once an integral, intimate part of someone’s life- it seems unfathomable they could exist without my presence. And now I am shredded. Discarded. Left alone unnoticed to slowly disintegrate into nothingness. While the freaking snake gets to slither off all happy. God I hate him.

I am hoping that words will restore me, and maybe some others along the way. I’m hoping this diary will enable me to spill my proverbial heart onto the page so that I don’t always have to carry this raincloud of emotion with me.

I’m embarking on a new journey…I welcome any readers to join me for the ride.

Misty x