I’m supposed to be asleep, but asleep doesn’t come easy when you’ve got the words in your head that stick in your throat and you’re not allowed to say.
No amount of sea water can take the pain away.
We can’t run, we can’t hide.
We remember freaking out at school once. My uniform was green. Put in isolate because we couldn’t control the anger. Shaking. A stern look in the teachers eyes because they couldn’t understand. Her hair was short, dark and curly, a remnant of the 80’s, eyes peering angrily over silver wire rimmed glasses. The bedding was red. The walls were white. Brown wooden furniture. Green waste paper bin. School information on the walls, I read over and over to try to focus and calm down. All the major food groups. Puffy red eyes from crying. Being forced to eat and drink even though I know I felt sick from the gut wrenching sobbing that had taken place earlier in frustration. I can’t even remember now why we were freaking out. Swear words like “shag” and “fuck” come to mind. Screwed up paper. Out of control. I guess it doesn’t matter. Like it won’t matter why I’m freaking out now. I’ll just remember the aftermath, pictographically, what was on tv, how my hair looked, what I was wearing, what I had for tea what I felt, taste, smelt and saw.
Burnt skin, heavy heart, tired eyes, noisy brain, no escape, should’ve ended it a long time ago because there is nothing here and I’m only here to disappoint.