Coffee Cups and Notebooks

I glance at the time and with a start, I realise I have just wasted the entire day doing absolutely nothing. I sigh and pick up my cup; the contents are cold and slosh around noisily as I clumsily put it back on the desk. The light from the window has faded and my room is blanketed in shadow. I reach for the lamp in hopes of bringing some light into my little dark corner of the world.

Layers of dust cover the shelves above my desk, fuzzy grey blankets covering up the mementos of years past. Tomorrow, I tell myself, I’ll get out the duster and clear them away. Empty perfume bottles, pretty on the outside but empty inside are lined up on the shelf, half finished song lyrics and a locket that says ‘I love you’ complete the scene.

I never wear the locket anymore, it hangs from my shelf, a grim reminder that pretty words can still lie. Any affection I might have held for the person who gave it to me lost in a fog of deceit and a handful of paper dreams. For a moment I allow myself a trip down memory lane, carefully skirting past the black holes and dark alleys that live there. I search for the tiny golden moments, fresh as the moment they were born, soft around the edges and coloured with the hazy glow of a summer afternoon.

I can’t live in memory alone so with the knowledge of better moments, I send myself hurtling back to reality, landing with a bump as always. A wry smile and the after taste that comes from too many coffees and not enough sleep lingers. I get out my notebook, the soft scratches of my pen against the paper and the smooth flowing ink in stark contrast to the storm that is brewing inside me.

Writing smoothes away the rough edges and I feel the start of a proper smile, soft and sad but a smile all the same. The storm passes and with it and remaining traces of anger I might have felt. The notebook slips from my hand as my eyes close slowly, the sleep I have been denied in the last few days finally reaching out to claim me, soothing me in its warm embrace.

This morning I woke from a dream filled sleep. Not exactly refreshed, more puzzled as I try to decode the fragments of dreams I remember. A cup of coffee and a read through my scribbles from the night before and I’m about ready to face my day.

A butterfly on a string, dreaming of escape, that would be me.

Of Rainfall and Revelations

Today I felt like my heart broke into a million tiny pieces, pieces that will never again fit together to make a whole. Dawning realisation struck me some time mid afternoon, and the knowledge it brought almost floored me with its intensity. I caught my breath and soldiered on, no use crying over what has already past and can’t be changed. With a heavy sigh and the crashing sound of a thousand dreams dying all at once, I put on my makeup and prepared for the show, fake smiles for all, a forced laugh and another round at the bar if you please.

Caught by surprise by the knowledge I suspect I already knew, I choked down another piece of self prescribed poison and allowed myself a single moment to bathe in the glory of self pity. Shiny eyed and full of false cheer, I made my way out into the big wide outside, my bus journey seeming to drag as I made my way into town to complete the load of errands I had been given the task of completing.

I wandered through town, the revelations from earlier in the afternoon still swimming around in my head, taunting me. I gazed at the strangers pushing past me, no longer angry at their rudeness, just sad. Sad for them or me I wondered as I continued making my through the crowds. The rain continued its gentle fall throughout the afternoon, the sky grey and dull as the landscape inside me.

I returned home, my previous state of sadness now replaced with a numb disinterest. A glance at the blank screen of my phone and empty email inbox assuring me that once again, I haven’t missed anything. A sigh and a cup of tea later, I find myself wondering when the universe will let me in on the joke, or if it ever will.

Today I learned that hindsight is both a terrible and beautiful thing. Without it, I would never learn from my mistakes but I have a sneaky suspicion that it exists purely so the universe can let me know it got one over on me yet again.

A butterfly on a string, dreaming of escape, that would be me.