I'm waiting for the sound of your devotion.
My black nails flash over the keyboard, in this; what can only be called a hopeless attempt at distraction.
I think I should start a diary. Then it will be all here so I can look back and try to see where it all went wrong. I mean, it hasn't gone wrong yet, but it will. I've gone wrong already. I'm not making sense. Perhaps I should start again.
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦..
I'm waiting for the sound of your devotion.
By black nails flash over the keyboard, in this; what can only be called a hopeless attempt at distraction.
Text me¦. Text me¦.
I don't understand how it can have come to this. Sometimes I wonder what the hell is wrong with me? I can never seem to read people like I should be able to. Like everyone else does. I stand, and watch their eyes flick from side to side, their lips curl in false smiles and true smiles, their voices rise and fall.
Sometimes I feel as lost as a raft drifting away in a sea of snow and ice. Cold and alone.
But I can never be alone, can I?
They all told me you would be so, sure of what to do, so sure of how we can fix¦this.
My black nails flash over the keyboard¦ why did I paint them black? I remember just grabbing a pot of varnish out of the draw and throwing it on¦ But why not blue, or purple? Why black?
I've got distracted already.
Okay, focus. Focus.
He's not going to text me back. Why didn't I just tell him on the phone? Or go round and tell him face to face?
I know why, I'm just too ashamed to write it down. Okay, here goes.
I knew if I could hear his voice I would loose it. I wouldn't be able to tell him.
Tell him what? I hear you ask. Well you would, if computers could talk.
Which they can't.
I don't know why I wrote that. It just seemed so funny in my head. And then it looked so silly on the page, in black and white as they say. More like grey and white.
Its like the screen is as dull as my eyes are. Lost all colour, like mine have.
Anyway, it was just an apology. A stupid apology that I had to give.
I would be too proud to tell him, if I could hear the calm sound, of his calm voice, and his calm, calm words.
This is making me angry, just thinking what he said, and what I said. Which is probably worse. I'm trying to make it right though. I'm trying to get him to see what I mean, see why I don't want this. I don't want to do this.
Why can't he just see this?
I'm going to bed. My head feels too light and I think I'm going to throw up. I drank too much again.
Drowning my sorrows. Yeah right. If I wanted to do that I would jump in the Thames.
Hahahahaha.
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦.
I got up this morning and threw up. Then I went downstairs and made breakfast. Then I threw up again. And then I went down and threw away my breakfast.
I know; too much alcohol again.
What does it matter? I didn't do anything stupid. I didn't kill myself. It was probably worth it.
Probably.
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
I didn't turn on my phone today. Without nearly half a bottle of baileys in me I didn't think I could face it. If he'd reply I would have to deal with it, and if he hadn't I'd have to deal with it.
And if he has texted me he will want to talk on the phone. And then he will know I'm hung over. And then there will be hell to pay. Responsibility, blah, blah. Not just yourself you have to give a damn about now, etc, etc.
And that's a direct quote.
So either way it was just easier not to turn it on, and bury it under a pile of cushions.
But now I am wondering if that wasn't the best thing to do. I will have to turn it on eventually, or some-one will get worried and start worrying why I haven't come to work today. Or not¦
You see, my dearest dear diary, no-one at work will notice or care if I never come in. So no-one is going to care if I don't reply to their texts. Except him, he might.
Notice I said 'might'!
No, that's not really funny I suppose.
Nothing is funny now. With this weighing on my shoulders. On my belly. In my belly, Whatever.
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦..
I've placed my phone next to me. Its blank screen is glaring at me, wanting to be turned on.
Hahahah you can't make me¦.
You see I always knew what would happen when that happened. If that happened, and what would happen if this happened.
If that made sense.
Which it didn't. Oh well.
Just one touch. One touch of his lips, one touch of a button. And my life is effectively over.
One life for another. Hahahah.
He says I am being over dramatic. Blahdy blahdy blah. Drama queen. Time I grew up and understood that this was the right time for this. That we should do this.
No, I don't think so!
What he doesn't understand is I'm only doing this for him! We couldn't get through this. I know we couldn't and if he sat and thought about it, he would realise we couldn't. So you see, I am being responsible really. Thinking about this properly, and all that.
I know it will be too hard. He has no idea what it will be like. And I will cry more and he will work late more to stay away, and then he will leave me with¦it.
Yes I did say 'It'. It's important not to get too attached.
Last time¦ no I don't want to think about last time.
¦¦¦¦¦¦.
I turned on my phone and yes, he had replied. He just asked me to call him so we could 'talk this over'. I just said I was too busy and I would call later.
Oh my god! What am I going to do later?
Last time it was simpler, because he never got involved. I just did nothing until suddenly it had happened and it was too late, and oh god it was here.
You see? 'It'. You must never get too attached.
Of course he doesn't know all this. What would I say? Actually, dear you see, I've been pregnant before and they took her away before she turned one?
Said no teenage girl should have a child.
Said I should cut out the booze and the drugs and the sex, wait ten years and maybe try again.
How well would he take that do you think?
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
He called me and said nothing except I should come around to dinner tonight. He didn't even ask why I didn't call him back.
The guilt trick. I like it. Very smart.
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦.
So, I went.
I wore the medium black dress, the medium high heels with the bows on the front and did my make up mediumly well.
Is mediumly a word?
Never mind¦ anyway.
We just talked about this and that. Normal talk.
Then he came next to me, took my hand and reminded me that he loved me. Told me he had loved me for years now (three to be precise) and asked me if would consider cancelling the abortion. So we could talk about it for a little while longer.
There's no rush, he said. We can take all the time we like to decide.
Actually we can't, I pointed out.
He laughed. We've still got a lifetime to decide.
I'm not sure if a few months is a lifetime, but I didn't want to argue again so I just let him kiss me.
Then he told me he knew about Chloe, my little girl, and what happened.
I could just stare. How the hell did he find out? And more importantly who the hell told him???
My sister. I'm going to kill her.
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦.
I still can't believe I found this saved on my computer. I completely forgot I kept a crazy diary while I was pregnant. To look back and work out where it all went wrong, as I said.
All those choices I could make. So many decisions, each one with a deadline. A second, a minute, a month. And my choice¦ Does it really matter what I chose? So long as I chose.
What was that line I used again?
I'm waiting for the sound of your devotion.
New phone, new time. Always the same story.
