I dreamed I met Mads Mikkelsen last night and he was wearing his Hannibal suit from the Zulu awards and playing the guitar and he knew my name and when he walked over to me all I could say was YOU’RE SO TALL
and then he said come here darling and cuddled me and said god you’re sexy. you’re so beautiful. do you know that? except he wasn’t hitting on me, he was being gentle and kind
and I was sick (still am sick) and coughing and my throat was hoarse and I was self-conscious (I’m always self-conscious) and said no, I didn’t think I was that beautiful and he held me tighter and said you are
long story short, I’ll take being sick a little longer if it means fever dreams like that one.
When I’m sure they’ve gone, I go back to the shop. I don’t
want to go home, alone, and there’s a part of me hoping there’ll be a note from
Bucky, something to hold on to. There
isn’t. Steve’s playing with something on
the floor when I walk in, scrabbling under the counter, but she runs over to me
when I walk in. I shut all the blinds
and lock the door, leaving the light off, then curl up in a chair, and cry.
I cry for my own stupidity, for letting myself fall for
someone; for having nothing else in my life; for James, alone in the care home,
away from his only family. I cry for a long time, until it hurts to breath,
until my skin feels raw with the salt tears. Steve is sitting on the arm of the
chair next to me, I’m curled up, hugging my knees, glad that my joints are
aching and my clothes are digging in and I hurt. I want to hurt. It’s what I
Eventually, you have to stop crying. Your body stops for
you, even when your heart carries on. I was exhausted, too tired to be angry with
myself any more. Too tired to go home. So I did something I probably shouldn’t
have. I tucked Steve under one arm, and walked up the stairs into the flat.
Kicking off my jeans, I lay down in the bed, just for a little bit, and tried
to pretend Bucky was there with me.
Of course, I fell fast asleep and woke the next morning,
confused and sore. I blinked and looked
around, then leapt out of bed, ashamed.
In the bathroom I confronted the damage that the tears had wrought. My eyes were red and swollen, my cheeks
looked rough and sore. The rest of me looked as disastrous as always. I pulled
on yesterday’s jeans and splashed some water on my face, but deep down I didn’t
Downstairs, I fed Steve again but she didn’t come when I
called. Going out into the shop, I found her scrabbling under the counter again
but when I shook her food box, she scampered in as if she hadn’t eaten for a
I opened the shop every day that week, went through the
motions of selling and stocking and locking up. I smiled and made coffee and
played with children, and then at night I went home to my own flat and sat in
the dark alone. I visited James every day but the spark had gone out of both
our lives and I had little to tell him. I ate badly – either nothing, or too
much – and I didn’t sleep, and I cried.
On Friday, I got a text from Bucky. It was short, to the
point. It hurt. ‘Accountant coming Monday. That OK? B.’ I replied saying it was fine, but he didn’t
respond. And so on Monday, after a
lonely weekend, where I’d drunk alone, too much, and forgotten to eat, the
accountant came. I showed him the accounts notebook, the system that Bucky had
set up to record orders, the cashing up.
He nodded, took away receipts, muttered about valuations.
On Tuesday, another text. ‘Estate agent coming Thursday.
That OK?’ Estate agent. So Bucky meant to sell the shop? Sell James’ home, my
job. The place where he grew up, where he was happy. I cried more, and drank more. Yet again I
replied and yet again he didn’t respond.
I replayed every memory of the weeks we’d spent together,
and doubted every one. I’d been kidding
myself that Bucky was my friend. I told myself I had nothing to offer, nothing
anyone would want. I was a convenient shop assistant, a favour to his Granddad.
A joke. I was ‘nothing compared to’ his fiancée.
James was doing little better than I was. I made sure to
visit him, it was the one thing every day that mattered to me. He looked old and sad, and spent a lot of
time talking about the family that had gone, about the friends he’d lost. He
asked me every day if I’d heard from Bucky, but I didn’t tell him about the
On Thursday, I woke up when the alarm went off, but I
couldn’t move. What I’d thought was a cold coming on the day before had
worsened. A regime of poor food, excess alcohol, poor sleep, and depression,
had left me susceptible to every virus. I was icily cold then feverishly hot,
my body aching unbearably. My head
throbbed every time I coughed, which was often. I tried to stand but felt so weak
that my legs trembled and I fell back onto the bed, shaking. I felt sick and
sore. My last coherent thought before I
fell into a fevered sleep was Bucky. I
sent him a text – ‘cant open shop, agent, ill im sorry’ – and then slept.
The only time I left my bed on Thursday or Friday, was to
crawl to the bathroom to be sick. Each movement left me weaker, my head
throbbing, my brain in a fog. I drank a little water from the tap but couldn’t
have made it to the kitchen to get a glass. I slept, or lay half-conscious,
unable to easily separate reality from fever-delirium. At one point, late on Friday, I heard my name
being called, and a loud banging. The noise hurt my head, so I buried it under
the pillow where the sweat stuck hair to my face. I slept again.
By Saturday morning, I was seriously dehydrated, although I
couldn’t have said as much. My cough was rattling through me, leaving my chest
aching. I was retching but there was nothing there. I heard the banging again, and my name, but
was too weary to even move. I shut my eyes against the light seeping into the
room around my curtains. When I opened
them again, Bucky was standing there. Another hallucination.
He crouched down beside the bed, resting the back of his
fingers on my forehead. Against my overheated
skin, his hand felt as cold as metal. I tried to say his name, but my tongue
was too dry and stuck to the roof of my mouth.
I blinked, and the hallucination was gone, so I shut my eyes to sleep.
A moment later, I felt an arm snake around the back of my
neck, and a glass being held to my mouth, a trickle of water wetting my
lips. I opened my mouth to gulp the
water down, and opened my eyes to see Bucky again. He was in a suit, the tie
undone and askew, and was scowling. Too
soon, he took the glass away, and laid my head back down. He sat down on the
edge of the bed and I tried to stay awake to look at him. He twisted to look at
“I was worried. You didn’t answer my calls or texts. Nobody
answered the door yesterday. I had to lie to a locksmith and say I’d lost my
keys, to get in,” he said, watching me. This was a great hallucination. He put his hand out and brushed some of the
sweaty hair off my face. I fell asleep again as he stroked my face.
When I woke up, the hallucination had gone. I felt slightly
less wretched than before, although the difference was slight. I turned my head
a little to ease my stiff neck, and noticed a glass of water by the bed. I knew I hadn’t put it there, but all I could
think of was how nice it would be to drink.
I pulled myself upright, my arms trembling with the effort, and gulped
down the water. It was icy cold and felt delicious on my sore throat. I lay
back, half-upright, and looked around the room. It looked different. My head
hurt to think so it took a while, but I realised that it was… tidy.
Since Bucky had left, I’d taken to coming in from work,
throwing my clothes in the corner, and getting into bed with a bottle of
wine. The dirty clothes were all gone
now, and the collection of wine bottles and glasses too. I swung around in bed and stood on trembling
legs, walked slowly to the bedroom door. I had to hold onto the doorframe and
walls as I left my bedroom and turned into the living room. It was only a small
flat but it felt like a marathon to walk that far. There was a strange smell,
and a clattering noise from the kitchen.
I turned into the doorway to see a man’s back. He was standing by the
stove, stirring a pot, and humming to himself.
There was clean washing up stacked beside the sink and the washing
machine was churning.
He turned and saw me. It was Bucky, of course. I was leaning on the doorway, worn out with
illness, tiredness and confusion.
“Hey, you should not be out of bed,” he said, stepping
across the kitchen to put an arm around me.
“Come on, sit down for a second.” He pulled out a chair and I slumped
into it. He crouched at my feet, looking
up at me, his eyes an intense blue. “Give
me a minute, I’ll change your bed.”
Before I could speak, he’d stood and walked past me. I heard cupboards opening and closing –
luckily my flat was small enough there weren’t many places to look – then silence. A few minutes later, Bucky returned. I stood, holding onto the chair. Other than his name, I still hadn’t spoken. I
started walking, still unsure exactly what was going on, why he was here, but I
was too weak still and my knees gave way.
Before I could hit the ground, Bucky’s arms were around me.
He lifted me up easily and carried me through to my room. Putting me down on
the bed, I felt the cool crispness of fresh linen, such a change from the hot,
tangled, sweaty sheets I’d been lying on.
My eyes closed as the cold pillow comforted my head, but as I drifted
off to sleep, I was sure I felt someone kiss my cheek.
When I next woke, the light coming through the curtains was
softer, as if evening was coming. I’d slept more peacefully, the fever breaking
at last although I still felt limp and exhausted. There was another glass of water by the bed,
and again I eagerly gulped it down. The
flat was silent and I was starting to doubt my own mind. Carefully I got up again and walked out, on
legs as weak as a newborn lamb’s.
In the living room, Bucky was sitting on the couch, legs up
on the coffee table. He was reading a
book and rubbing something on his lap. For a moment, I flushed brightly,
wondering what he was doing, before I realised he had a cat on his lap.
Steve. Bucky and Steve were in my
apartment. I felt lost.
I coughed, harshly, and Bucky turned around, the movement
disturbing Steve who stretched and meowed.
“Hey sleepyhead! Any better? Can I get some medicine into
you? You’ve fallen asleep every time I’ve tried.” He stood, lifting Steve onto
the couch, and walked into the kitchen as he spoke. I followed, sitting down in
the chair again, chilled and tired.
“What are you doing here Bucky?” I asked, my voice raspy and
sore. He put some paracetamol and
another glass of water beside me, nodding at me to take them, then pulled out
another chair, sitting near enough that our knees were almost touching.
“I told you. I couldn’t get hold of you and you’d said you
were ill. I was worried. So I came to look after you.”
I couldn’t quite process it. He gave me bits of information as
he ran me a bath, found me clean pyjamas. He sat outside the bathroom door
talking as I lay in the bath, making sure I didn’t fall asleep and drown. He continued
talking as I sat back in bed, exhausted but feeling so much better for being
clean, and gave me home-made soup to eat.
It was as if he hadn’t been able to speak for the last two weeks, and
needed to let everything out.
“When you didn’t reply to my note, I thought I’d blown it,
our friendship, so I tried to keep it business-like, but, I don’t know, things
felt different back at home,” he said, but before he could continue, I broke
“What note? You didn’t leave one.”
“Before we left. I came down out of the flat with Maria and
you were gone, so I left you a note.” I turned in the bath, staring at the
doorway, as if I could see him through the wood.
“There was no note. I went back to the shop after you’d
gone. There was no note.” I climbed gingerly out of the bath, the heat having
sapped the last of my strength, and half-heartedly dried myself, before pulling
pyjamas onto damp skin. As I started to
clean my teeth, Bucky spoke again.
“I left a note, on the counter. Next to Steve.” A pause. “Saying
I was sorry. Asking you to call me if you’d still be my friend. Telling you I needed
I pulled the bathroom door open, and he looked up. He was
sitting on a dining chair he’d pulled up outside the door, elbows resting on
knees, head resting on hands. Now that
water and rest had cleared my head a little, I could really see him. He looked terrible. His skin was grey, eyes
red-lined, and the frown between his eyes was deep again.
“I never got that,” I said, and as if on cue, Steve rounded
the corner, ignoring us both as he walked into my room and jumped on the
bed. I remembered the way Steve had
scratched at something under the counter in the shop when I’d been there. “Steve. She must have chased it.”
Bucky let out a groan of exasperation as I climbed into bed,
too tired and emotional to give a thought to Bucky being in my bedroom. He nudged the cat with his hand and she
glared at him, before moving over and climbing onto my lap. I felt teary, in
that post-illness way, when every emotion seems too raw, your nerves exposed. I
kept my head down and stroked Steve, watching as one or two tears darkened her
I felt the bed move and looked up to see Bucky sitting down.
He looked at me, then lay back, on top of the duvet, resting his head back
against the headboard. He looked exhausted, drained.
“Out of interest, if you’d got the note…?”
“I’d have replied. I’d have called.”
His eyes closed, briefly, and his face seemed to relax. Silence fell, but it wasn’t
uncomfortable. Steve purred on my lap,
and my skin tingled from the hot bath. I was tired but had slept too much to
sleep again just yet.
“Buck, why did you come all this way?”
He turned his head on the pillow to look at me. “I told you.
I was worried. About you, and about Granddad. You were ill. The nurses say he’s
I nodded. “He has. I’m
sorry. To be honest, you look like you
He smiled, briefly. “I’m
fine. Work stress is all.” I didn’t believe him.
“If you need a friend, I’m here to listen. And thank you.
For coming here, for taking care of me.”
For a moment, just a moment, I thought he was going to talk.
He needed to, it felt as if there was a flood of words dammed up inside him,
but before he could sleep, I was wracked with another bout of coughing, sending
Steve off my lap and leaving me doubled over and struggling to breathe. By the time I was calm again, Bucky had
“You need to sleep. You’re not well.” He leant over and
kissed my forehead, leaving my skin tingling. Before I could speak again, he’d
left the room, and I heard the flat door shut.
…I miss your warmth
And I miss your touch
And I miss the way you press your hand against the small of my back as we’re walking
And I miss your lips being pressed all over me
And I miss you playing with my hair
And I miss the way your breath feels against my neck when you whisper into my ear
And I miss the way you look at me when I’m not paying attention
And I miss your smile
And I miss your laugh
CeK // 5;52 pm // I miss you so fucking much. My soul is craving you
I forgive you for hurting me
I forgive you for loving me for seven years, only to break my heart
I forgive you for breaking my heart in the most devastating way
I forgive you for cheating
I forgive you for ignoring me, for never even calling to break up with me
I forgive you for emotionally abusing me for all those years
I forgive you for taking all my pain, weaknesses, & insecurities & using them against me
To tear down my already limited self-esteem
I forgive you for constantly lying
For constantly making excuses
I forgive you for using me
For walking all over me
I forgive you for manipulating my love for you into putting up with so many problems
So many red flags
I forgive you for insulting me
For publicly humiliating me time and time again
I forgive you for saying such hurtful, scarring things like, “How do you think it makes me feel when one of our friends looks at a girl SMALLER than you & says she’s too BIG for them?”
I forgive you for wasting all of my time
I forgive you for tainting every good memory of my life over our years together with your betrayal
I forgive you for having no remorse
I forgive you
What I can’t forgive is myself
For putting up with you
For putting up with your intolerant, judgmental, & dysfunctional family
For always taking you back whenever you’d cry your eyes out to me because I never wanted to hurt you
For sacrificing my own happiness to stay in an unhealthy relationship to make you happy
For giving you a place to live when you needed it, rent free for 5 years, and never thinking that you were using me
For keeping the pain of our problems inside because I was too embarrassed to tell anyone, even my closest friends, because I knew they’d all judge me for not leaving you
For not having any self-respect
For never listening to other people’s concerns about how you treated me
For still dwelling on our relationship & the pain you’ve caused me after all these months
For not learning these lessons sooner
For not loving myself
Because that’s what it all boils down to, right? I didn’t love myself when I loved you.
But I love myself now. More than ever.
I love the person I’ve become
Stronger, smarter, more resilient, happier…
So, thank you.
Thank you for being weak enough to lie & cheat
Thank you for being a coward & never calling me to end our relationship
Thank you for hurting me in a way I could never have even imagined hurting you
Thank you for making me realize what a wonderful, deserving person I am
I’ve learned & I’ve grown so much. And now I know what I won’t put up with in my next relationship.
Thank you for setting me free for the guy out there who actually deserves me. I can’t wait to give him all the love I have bottled up inside of me that I would’ve wasted on you.
But for the love of god, don’t tell the civilian you’re ‘afraid’ to write him a ticket. Honestly, you’re asking for me to walk all over you or worse. Anyway, you’re doing your damn job, be proud to enforce it, not afraid.
Why do parents say “You need to treat me with respect”
When they really mean:
“You should let me walk all over you, insult you, and threaten to kick you out every time you want to do something with your life that I disagree with even though it has no effect on me whatsoever”?
Cause seriously, fuck you to all of you who do this. It’s not disrespectful for your child to stand up for themselves when they’re being attacked.
Get off your fucking high horse and maybe listen to your children when they tell you that you hurt their feelings. Dismissing them as being hyper-sensitive, especially if you know they are struggling with mental illness, is a horrible way to parent, and it’s abusive.
“A cleaved head no longer plots.” “A conversation of silence, lies left unspoken.” “A dying man needs to die as a sleepy man needs to sleep.” “A lot of truth is said in jest.” “A lot of you cared. Just not enough.” “Afraid to love you hide away.” “Although I search myself it’s always someone else I see.” “Although we are through, I’m longing for you.” “Am I invisible? Am I soundless? Or am I just alone?” “And they didn’t even put up a fight.” “And they didn’t even put up a fight, they didn’t even make a sound.” “Anxious, you laughed. Sad, you smiled.” “Are you proud of who I am?” ”At least I’m being honest.” ”But I’ve got better things to do than let you walk all over me.” “’Cause I’m not convinced I’m worth your time.” ”Can still remember the time you were here.” ”Can you see me? Can you hear me? Or am I not here?” “Can’t believe what I did for love.” ”Can’t you forgive me? At least just temporarily.” “Can’t you hear me calling? Can’t you see me falling? I’m lost without you here.” “Constantly lying to myself just to get through the day.” ”Death has been crooning in my ear things I want to hear.” “Don’t bother to cry, no one will hear you.” “Don’t go where I can’t follow!” “Don’t you try to fix what’s broken, no one else can take your place.” “Ending it will just pass on the pain, I know, but I’m selfish enough to just want it gone.” ”Feel like a failure, ‘cause I know that I failed you.” “Feel like a shadow walking behind who you think I am.” ”Give me one good reason to love you, for I can’t think of any.” “Go ahead and leave me – I never needed you anyway!” “Guess there’s a part of me that likes to bring you down just to keep you around.” “Heartburn. Reminding me I fucked up.” “How did I miss you when I didn’t know you?” “How do you love someone without getting hurt?” “How do you warn the people you love that you may not come back?” “I am just so angry with myself.” “I chose the easy way out.” “I could be long gone. I could be a ghost in your eardrum.” ”I don’t care if you’ve got them on your mind, all I really care is if you wake up in my arms.” ”I don’t deserve it, I know.” “I don’t hate you, I fear you.” ”I feel broken and hollow.” ”I got nothing here without you.” “I just want to not be me.” “I killed myself by leaving you.” ”I know I should’ve fought it.” ”I know I should’ve fought it, at least I’m being honest.” ”I know that this is my fault.” ”I know you wouldn’t even notice.” ”I made a mess of me.” ”I should’ve been more careful.” ”I still don’t miss you yet.” ”I swear, I’ll make it worth it.” “I thought I could imagine how much it would hurt, but I was wrong.” “I told you to leave me… Don’t.” “I trusted you not to go.” ”I was a liar, I gave into the fire.” “I wish I could remember.” “I would have stayed up with you all night had I known how to save a life.” “I would never die for you.” “I’d like for it all to stop now. Please.” ”I’m a walking heartache.” “I’m a work in progress and I’m not so sure I’ll like the end result.” “I’m not enough for you.” “I’m not fine as in fine, but fine as in you don’t have to worry about me.” “I’m still alive but I’m barely breathing.” ”I’ve been a fool – a fool for you.” “I’ve hurt myself by hurting you.” “If you care to look around then you’ll see me going down.” “If not for me then you’d be dead.” “If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy, I could’ve won.” “It doesn’t do a damn thing to fix anything.” “It’s a long way down, but here I am.” “It’s just not meant to be.” “Leave your mark on love before love leaves you.” “Let me hang in peace.” “Life’s greatest gift is the freedom it leaves you to step out of it whenever you choose.” “Losing hope is the real disaster.” “Love? Great? That’s bullshit, love hurts.” “Memory is a curse more often than a blessing.” ”No more lies if you don’t wanna find me gone.” “Now everything I see reminds me of all that is said and done.” “Now you’re just somebody that I used to know.” “Of all the things I’ve had and all the things I’ve lost I miss you the most.” “On my own I’m only half of what I could be.” ”One last time I need to be the one to take you home.” ”One more time. I promise, after that I’ll let you go.” “Our souls contain more scar tissue than life.” “Pain is a pesky part of being human.” “People are different – it’s not always a good thing.” “Promising to stay you slowly walked away.” ”Return us to when you know how to love.” ”Said you’d change but I’m afraid it’s something I won’t live to see.” “Save your time for someone deserving of it.” “Silent tears invisible to the naked eye, but still they drown you.” “So sick of believing the lies and trying to hide, covering the cuts and bruises.” “Some days I feel broken inside.” “Some people make me want to throw up.” “Somebody tell me why I’m on my own if there’s a soulmate for everyone.” “Soon I will be just another memory.” “Stay with me a minute, I swear I’ll make it worth it.” “Stop caring– I don’t deserve it.” ”Stories are all we’ll ever have.” “Surrounded by pale people, think I’m fading too.” “Tell me you love me, say you care. Lie straight to my face.” “That constant judgement you can’t avoid.” “The marks humans leave are too often scars.” ”The person I’ve been lately isn’t who I want to be.” “The world is full enough of hurts and mischances without wars to multiply them.” “There are some things you never really move on from.” “There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” “There is no relationship in life beyond betrayal.” “There’s more here than what we’re seeing.” ”These scars are reminders of just how much I can take.” “They didn’t even make a sound.” “They say bad things happens for a reason.” ”This morning I woke up hating us both.” “Trying to save myself from choking, just wish that I could see your face.” “Used to think you didn’t love me, now I know you don’t.” “What am I still doing here?” “What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you?” ”What I wouldn’t give for peace.” ”What, like it matters? Since when?” “What is left without your love?” “We cannot tear out a single page of our life, but we can throw the whole book in the fire.” “We learn so little from peace.” “We were great once. Where did that go?” “What hope I have left flickers like a candle about to go out.” “When you sleep, will it be with me?” “Why am I still living this dark and hurtful life?” “Why do I bother?” “Why do I let you hurt me so?” “Why do I love you?”
”You break your promises in two, what can I do?” “You call it a simple mistake, but to me it’s not simple at all.” “You deserved better.” “You don’t care about me like I do you.” “You leave me and I’ll leave you.” “You remind me of things I’d rather forget.” “You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts.” ”You’ll always be love’s great martyr.” “You’ve got an excuse. What’s mine?” “Your life is worth more than mine.” “Your pain is my happy ending.”
...so long story short, I'd ran out of energy trekking across sand all day long just to find you. I- *takes deep breath* just need to recharge.
We can pick up on our "dual of the fates" in the morning. Besides I need my morning and afternoon nap, both which I skipped because I'd felt your force signature approaching about *peeps at watch* fourteen hours ago. Oh, did you not just think of using your ship in propulsion mode to reach me at all? How you must hate me enough to walk over tens of miles of dune plains...
I...didn't think. I was too focused on the fact that a loth-rat insulted me on my homeworld.
Fair enough. Oh- I sense you have taken on an apprentice...unexpected and somewhat unwelcomed.
Ezra Bridger? what a problematic poodoo i hate him i- *trips* *thousands of photos of Ezra spill from pockets* kriff those aren’t mine i swear i’m just holding them for a friend i- *slips on a pile of pictures* kr iff no they’re not mine i hate him i just- *more pictures fall out of my mechnical knees, desperately trying to pick them up* hang on a sec jUst LISTEN