17 November 2012
I didn't feel like talking so the rest of the day was a washout. Anya herded me round like a small child and I simply hadn't the energy to protest. I had seen the pity and sadness and resignation in her eyes. Almost watched myself being dragged from the shop with her muttering "she's not been well." There was no chance of explanation, she didn't even ask why. Just an acceptation of my "unbalanced" state of mind. Though I wasn't even sure I knew what anyone thought was wrong with me.
Texts continually pinged to her phone and her smiles when she read them meant it had to be Tate. A feast of tiredness and loneliness ate at my bones and I longed for my bed.
Mum and Dad were "casually" chatting by the car as we approached the house. Their smiles fading as the saw Anya and I. Another secret ploy to watch my every move. However their chatting ceased as they saw the looks on our faces. Both pained but for many different reasons. "Good day girls?" Dad bravely offered. " Oh, you know." Anya replied, waving the shopping bags hung from an arm. " I'll give you a text?" Was she wondering if she should? " Yeah, lovely." My reply sounding terse. I didn't stop to view their faces, knowing the concern and confusion that would be etched there. I felt it too. Flinging myself onto my bed, pausing only to remove my boots and coat, I climbed under the covers. And promptly feel asleep.
Touching everything,I ran blindly up and down the confusing streets, lanes and passages. Textures felt real and connected though I didn't try to open and of the many different doors, it was hard to believe I was dreaming. I had stopped, not for any reason just waiting. Viewing the absurdity of the landscape, the sinister cuteness of it all. When the birds began to circle.
No Title Part 16.... • Opuss № I