Man Of Few Words

Chapter 34

I just feel so tense right now. My whole being is just saying, "No!". To everything. In every possible way. I'd probably be having a panic attack if my body or brain or whatever weren't silently screaming "No!" to that too. I'm just sort of frozen, but not completely still. I feel like I'm at a very slight, but very fast vibration.

And the closer I get to seeing mum and dad, the worse this gets. I've already forgotten when I'm visiting them, and I've lost track of what day it is now anyway. It's night time now, so I'm not expecting Hat 'n' Mat soon. Probably not tomorrow either, I don't think. It hasn't been that long since we made the arrangement. It might've been a while though. I don't know.

The voice is screaming "No!" at me writing right now too. Okay, maybe not screaming. It's just folding its arms and clamping its mouth shut and turning away. But I'm not giving up. I'm really having to force myself, but I've got started now. Just. Don't. Stop.

I don't know how long I'd just been sitting or lying or shuffling aimlessly this way and that around the flat before I finally summoned the will and focus to sit here and fire this up. I was doing nothing while desperate to do something. But somehow desperate not to too.

Look, I'm just shuffling aimlessly about the keyboard too. Or the page, or whatever. I guess it's a true reflection of my state. Not sure how much entertainment value that has.

I'm just really, deeply, horrifically lonely. I've never had anyone truly close to me in my life and if anyone tried, I made damn sure to keep them out. Why? Am I afraid? I think I'm afraid now. It doesn't feel like I'm afraid of death, but maybe I am. I can't crack myself open. I can't... it all just feels too late.

Do my parents need me? Will it really make any difference to them when I'm gone? Of course it will, right? Especially if... I don't know. Especially if things just stay as they are. Especially if they continue to feel unwanted by me. Do I want them?

"No!"

That wasn't me. That was the voice.

What voice? Whose voice? Where's it coming from?

I need my parents. So why do I have such intense resistance to them? Why do I react to them like they're kryptonite, or poo... what the fuck...

I never did get those cyanide pills. Good job too. I'm kinda in the mood for them right now. I'm just so fed up. I just want some peace, some sleep. Nothing else seems to knock me out. Cyanide would probably do it. Or a fucking mallet.

I should get out of here. Not 'here' as in 'life'. Not just yet. I should take a walk. It's shitty out there – gusty and drizzly – and I know I'm going to suffer. Cold and damp cuts right into me these days. But fuck it, I'll take the pain. I'll just be glad that it's something.

I'm just going to go and stand in the middle of the starfish and spin around 'til I lose my bearings. Then I'm going to stop. And whichever direction I'm facing, that's the way I'll walk.

I'm quite likely to be face down on the road, of course, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.