Follows on from Aquarion and LoneCat
There’s this black hole in my life right now.
Everything’s exactly as it was before, I come home, one of us fixes dinner, we eat, we sleep. The differences are small, superficially. Like the way I ran back to my bedroom when her parents arrived, the way that instead of hugging her when I come home, I don’t.
This isn’t to say that I’ve changed at all, really. I still want to hug her as she leaves for a week, to phone her every night and hear her say “I love you”. I’m resisting the urge to rake over everything that’s happened since we moved to Letchworth to see if there is anything I could have done to stop this happening. I won’t do that, because of the “don’t look back” thing. I will just continue to love her, quietly, and live as I have done for the past four years, and hope that whatever she once saw in me, she will see again.
I want to run.
I want to run away, find a new house, live on my own again if that’s what it takes. I don’t want to come home every day to someone who used to love me, or to an empty space where she was once (She’s away now. That’s a hole too). I can’t do that, because I still owe her money, and I can’t afford my own place and pay her back.
I’m not even sure I can afford my own place at all, in fact, life isn’t kind to first time buyers.
I sacrificed my dreams for this reality. I want to get a shift-based job doing something meaningless so I earn less and have time enough to write, but instead I plug along on the treadmill, working off the debts earnt when I was looking for a new treadmill.
If I knew what she saw in me, maybe I could be that again.