i don’t miss you yet. but i’m wearing your t-shirt to bed anyway. & it’s not because i don’t enjoy your company. or because i don’t love you. honest, i thought i’d miss you more than this. you think you would, after four months sitting on each others doorstep. but it’s just like you were never here. like that imaginary friend, i fell out with.
my life has gone back to how it was, before i left for the states. same chores. same carpet. same smiles across the dinner plates. is this how it’s going to be, when you’re gone? if i don’t get into that american university i’ve dreamt of? will you go back to america with your mini-pigs, friends, and sunsets and that’ll be ‘it’? my little slice of life, disappearing, one memory at a time.
the spider plant died in the bathroom today and they said it was my fault because i hadn’t watered it. i said it was because it had dried out.
and it’s the same dry skin on my feet. the same sweat on my palms, and lump in my throat when i try to speak. i open my mouth to talk and realise it’s the first time i’ve spoke in days. every word gets harder to say. and my room gets safer. fading into the shadows from where i came.
i remember the first time that i had to say goodbye to a friend. i was 5 years old in reception class. she was called jessica which was meant to be my name but it isn’t now and i loved her. she moved to australia. she gave me a toy horse, once.
it’s a funny thing isn’t it. loss.