My Old Problems

**This is a work of fiction. It uses real life feelings but, and i stress, this is in no way true – fortunately. Nor a representation of how i feel at the moment. Just past feelings that – cliche i know – came to me in a nap i just had.** 

 

 

We had been sniping at each other all night – well I had been anyway.

 

He just annoyed me, everything he did, it all annoyed me.

 

He had arrived in a pair of paint stained trackie bottoms and a horrible feeling football top he had had since he was sixteen. His God awful baseball cap with its frayed denim lip was perched firmly on his head.

 

We had sat down together to watch a movie, some blah nothing rom rubbish that neither of us were really paying attention too. He seemed fidgety, as if he didn’t want to be here and it threw my mind into over drive.

 

I wanted to ask him what was wrong but I knew what he would say. I became more snappy the more insecure I became.

 

“Can I ask you something?” he piped up.

 

“Go for it,” I said nonchalantly but inside I was desperate to know.

 

“Do you mind if I go for a drink?” he said, which was weird as it was a Thursday and he worked Thursday nights. He spent so little time with me – according to me he did, anyway- that I was annoyed he was asking for it ‘off’.

 

“Can I not come?” was the first thing I asked.

 

“Its just Ash, John and Nathan,” he said, as if this would mean my automatic exclusion.

 

“MY Nathan?” I spat bitterly, knowing what upset it would cause him.

 

“Do you mind then?” he said ignoring me.

 

I just sat in silence, not caring anymore. It was all too suspicious.

 

“Give me your phone!” I demanded.

 

He handed it over and, although it should have alarmed me, – and would, in fact, alarm me no end later on – I had to take it off ‘Airplane’ mode. This clearly meant he was in control of when a text would arrive. So who was he screening for?

 

“You haven’t even organized anything?” I said hunting through his texts.

 

“Yes I have,” he responded.

 

“Where then?”

 

“It must have deleted itself,” was his half arsed attempt at a lie.

“I’m gonna head home just now,” he continued.

 

“So you’re just leaving just now then?” I asked like a psychotic person.

 

I want to highlight here that I am perfectly aware of the, excuse the language, “Psychotic Bitch-Cunt from Hades” behaviours I was displaying. But I didn’t care, I had become so twisted and deformed, both physically and mentally, that I just didn’t care anymore.

 

I watched him stand up and walk towards the door.

 

I could feel a mixture of emotion bubbling inside me. It was like I wanted to both rip his face off and scream at him as I do so. But at the same time all I wanted to do was shut the door behind him and keep my dignity. I started doing the latter before that inner child I keep so well fed sprung up and wrenched the door wide.

 

“I hope you’re happy with your choice,” I said as he turned and made his escape.

 

All I could think of now was how drunk I was going to get.

 

You have work tomorrow.

 

So what?

 

You’ve came so far.

 

I’ll do it again then!

 

Don’t do this!

 

He’s doing it, not me.

 

You might go too far this time.

 

 

I threw on a pair of joggies and a jumper that was a bit too small for me and stuffed my feet into a pair of trainers without any socks on.

 

I was at the shops and back in record time. A large bottle of vodka and several cartons of orange juice spilled out on the top of the fridge I used as a counter top.

I opened the vodka and downed a large mouthful. The burning sensation spiraled down my oesophagus and landed with a pleasant thump in my stomach. I could already feel my inhibitions disappearing.

 

I poured the glass half full with vodka and put only enough orange in to colour it.

 

It was going to be a good night.

 

I turned to the utensil drawer and picked out my old friend. It had been so long, did I really want to ruin all my hard work, over something like this?

 

I tried not to think too hard about what I knew he was up to, and probably still is. But this would make him suffer. It would make them all suffer. I couldn’t compartmnetalise the pain when I drank. A lifetime of hurt and neglect came rushing bcka to mr.

 

The way he acktrd reminded me of whn I ws young. iT was all far too much.

 

The vodka is taking hold now, I cant concentrate enghli to type correctly.

 

It’s time.

 

Thank you for reading,

 

May you all find the happiness I couldn’t. 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s