I will be restrained, I will show how well I can control the bigness that this has become.
And how quickly it is repaid.
Four days of thoughts, of images, of dreams and smiles.
Singing alone, hoping they can see.
This is it. This is that girl. This is the moment.
Laughs and jokes.
Reaching for you hand, finding it clammy.
Push it down, push it back, cover it up.
You didn't need to say that.
Not here and please not now.
Your eyes shift to the sides.
I try to stay to calm, to suggest a work around.
And we leave.
No, we don't need to wander.
No, I don't need to eat.
But I will. I will reach for the hot.
Find solace in keeping my hands busy and my eyes focussed.
I don't want to sit down.
I don't want to sit under the fluorescent light.
Features lit up, born bare for all to see.
I don't want to sit in the darkness.
Emptiness rising from the edges, above and below.
I don't want this to be happening, but it is.
Please don't think it is to hurt you.
And I don't think you are to hurt me.
But I know that this is not the way it should be, that this is something I need to process, that this is something that is going to escape from me.
I cannot hold on.
Focus and breathe.
Pacing back and forth.
Knowing that what I want should not happen like this.
In the dark, cold space where it started.
The tears begin before I've even turned the key.
Gasping sobs, shuddering chin, the wrinkles in my eyes no longer a favour of mine.
It rises and grows.
Heavier and deeper.
Lounder and more torn.
The lights turn to stars turn to suns.
The brightness stings to comfort the pain.
The gasping providing the air that I need, the air I need to take in and heave back out.
The air that we both breathe.