It was pre-dawn, just. The birds were gossiping outside the window. The
gentle 'hhh-hhh' of breathing from the peaceful body laying warm and content
next to her seemed to fill the gloomy room like a heavy blanket. Her head was churning
with thoughts, ideas, plans, worries, regrets, ambitions, fears. She had been
trying to quiet the rumbling and go back to sleep for an hour now, but like the
birds outside, her mind had too much to say.
She knew that this could go on for hours. That she could lay listlessly
staring at the wood-chipped ceiling for the rest of the day, hoping that the
weight that seemed to be resting on her would lift. But she also knew that if
she did nothing, the weight would get heavier until even her eyelids were too
heavy to lift. She didn’t want to reach that point again. A flicker of
determination appeared. She would make a hot drink, grab a pen and paper and
start trying to get some of the noise out of her head.
Numbly, she sat up, wiping crust from her puffy eyes as they refused to
fully focus on anything. She tucked drooping locks behind her ears,
dropping her legs over the side of the bed, oblivious to the pile of dirty
clothes and discarded crisp packets her feet had landed on. Pouring herself in
to the tired old dressing gown, her sinewy arms too long for the sleeves, she shuffled
noiselessly out of the room.
Where to start. When this heaviness invaded her, it spread through every
atom in her being, deadening her senses from the split ends of her cardboard
brown hair, to the neglected souls of her feet, curdling around her torso, pooling in her belly, making it hard to exist. The world seemed a dull and joyless place. The birds sang out of tune.
The kettle boiled with a chattering and clicking. She thought it sounded
too proud, too excited to have performed its only function. She poured water in her mug and unplugged the kettle. Her peppermint tea, which, on a good
day, filled her with a delicious cooling sensation, today tasted like murky
green sawdust. The sun was peeping in through the blinds, checking in to wish
her a good morning, but all she could see was the grey layer of dust gathered
on the dark wooden slats. Another job that needed doing. She sighed. Not today.
It was too much today. Today she would make a start by just... writing. The thought
left her feeling exhausted.
Where to start. She stared blankly at the page. It was sticky where the table
needed wiping from some forgotten meal. Another job. Later. Back to the page.
She was holding a pen that she didn’t remember picking up. Her fingers
looked wrinkled; sagging flesh dripping of stick thin bones. When had that happened?
Had they always been like that? The remnants of last week's nail varnish stared
at her without comment. Last week had been a good week. She had been out,
washed every day, even painted her nails the colour of the summer sky. Now the
remaining blue chips just felt sad, like the tips of her fingers had been
covered by the same dusky pink clouds that seemed to fill her heart, leaving no
space for feeling.
Where. To. Start.
Still the page was empty, the pen leaning against her hand as if to prop her up. A tear rolled down her cheek. 'oh' she thought.
'That, again' as another followed sluggishly down the other cheek. This was too
much, she realised. She had taken on too much today. She didn't have the energy
to assemble the letters into words in her mind, and then tell her mind to tell
her hand what those words were, to make her hand pick up the pen and put the
letters into the shape of the words on the page.
She would go back to bed.
She climbed the stairs. Careful not to disturb the slumber of her
companion, she wiped away her tears. 'no, you will never see me cry' she
thought to herself as she lifted the leaden duvet, and oozed limply back on to
the mattress. 'you will never see me cry' she thought as a fresh wave of silent
tears ran from her, escaping to the welcoming embrace of the pillow.
Wow! I had a very strong reaction to this. Despite the sadness of the content, I smiled at your use of language, your words and descriptions, which are so very clever and work so well. There are so many brilliant phrases, the last sentence of your first paragraph is wonderful, and I would have loved to be the person to come up with all of paragraph 4! :)You showed her struggle so effectively that I felt I was going through it with her. After reaching the end, I actually welled up and am still feeling a little upset writing this. Can I point out, just for you to look at it, that there was one sentence that jarred slightly. That was paragraph 2 'her feet had landed on', just that bit. It's not remotely a big deal, but it seemed slightly awkward in the flow of the rest of the piece. I have been focussing on flow today, so hope that you find that a useful comment, whether you decide to change it or not! I really loved this, am about to follow you on futurelearn :)
ReplyDeleteThanks Bethan, I'm so pleased you liked the piece, and I hope you're ok! I see exactly what you mean about that 'landed on' line, thank you so much for pointing it out! I'll have a play and see if I can bring it more in line with the feel of the rest of the article. thanks again for your feedback and i hope you are enjoying the course as much as i am :)
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