Until now I had been able to vaguely convince myself that I was imagining all of this. But now I know that I am wide awake and this is real.
My bus soon arrives and the bus driver appears uncomfortable with me boarding, but I have the money so he lets me pass. I take my seat, and thankfully the bus only has another couple of passengers on board. I am seated at the rear, as far away from anyone else as is possible.
I feel tired, so tired. My entire being seems to yearn for sleep, or maybe more than sleep.
I tell myself to snap out of it, “We’ll have no more thoughts like that.”
I focus on what passes by my window and try not to think. I see people going about their lives, oblivious to whatever I am experiencing. They are lucky and don’t even know it. We pass out of the residential area and into the centre of town, my place is just on the other side, another 10 minutes and I will be home.
What does this all have to do with Leah? I know I still love her, but I always felt that, given another few months, I would be able to move on. Now it feels like I am stuck in a hole with no grip on anything that would allow me to escape.
I close my eyes and attempt to wish it all away, but that is what a child would do. Leah always said I could be immature, maybe now is finally the time to change that.
Mine is the next stop and I begin to focus on getting home, back in some comfort zone. A shower, God how I am yearning for it, the chance to clean away whatever debris is clinging to me.
I get off the bus and walk to the front door of my block of flats. I quickly shuffle through the hallway, not even bothering to check the post box.
Once I am inside my flat some of the tension seems to release from me. I have always felt safer here, away from others. I wouldn’t say that I am antisocial, but I certainly am happy with my own company most of the time.
I head straight for the bathroom and strip my clothes off, leaving them in a pile on the ground.
Leaning on the basin and standing in front of the mirror I look at my reflection. My mouth is hanging open as I try to absorb the image before me. The colour has drained from my face. Standing before me is a grey man, who appears to be at least 20 years older than he should be.
To be continued…
neilhayeswrites 