Free writing: Breaking up with him 

 “I think we should break-up, I don’t think this is working. I just…” I trail off as I say the words out loud, anyway I say it sounds harsh, cold and mean. Words that are used to describe me. I don’t want to be that person, but I refuse to stay in a relationship that after just two months makes me this unhappy I have to, no I need to end things.

Not just for me, for him, he is falling, I can feel it, it’s been hinted at and before he actually falls I need to stop him. He can’t fall not for me, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I allowed him to fall then broke up with him, even when I think of the idea of allowing him to love me, I hate myself a little, I can’t believe I’ve become this person, I roll my eyes at my own arrogance, but then it is true. He feels more than I do, he always did and that was why this would never work. When I felt more he was blasé, now he feels more I am indifferent. We are not on the same page, in the same book, we may even be in different library.

I jump as he picks up the phone, I’m scared because I don’t want to lose him but I can’t do this, I won’t, it’s cruel to pretend.

“I…” I begin, I hear him sigh and my heart which was never really invested wakes up from icey chamber to glance at me and shake it’s head, told you so, it says to my head, practical and logical, thought to cure itself with being practical but love is complex and despite this guy being good on paper, my heart doesn’t care.

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A kid in your grade whom you don’t know very well shows up at your house one day to tell you something important. What does he say?

I open the door and standing there looking directly at me is Hershel, from my class, the quiet kid at the back who doesn’t really like to make eye contact with anyone.

I wonder if is he is lost and I’m about to close the door when he speaks.

“Good evening Riley, may I come in?” His voice is very deep for a twelve year old, most people make fun of him for it, or they used to, I haven’t actually heard him speak for almost half a year.

His voice startles me and I almost close the door anyway, except I don’t, but I can’t just invite him in either, he could be crazy, it’s always the quiet ones, that’s a saying for a reason.

I debate for a moment as he just stares at the ground, he has got really curly hair, it’s dark brown at the roots and almost blonde at the tips, he even has blonde highlights. It’s quite feminine hair, I never realised, maybe it’s the voice that threw me.

“Come in, but don’t touch anything,” I caution, before leading him up to my bedroom, Hershel is quiet, too quiet, I don’t even hear his footsteps behind me, freaky.

I sit on my desk and he just stands, eyes on the floor.

“I have something to tell you,” he says quietly.

I wait for him to continue.

“Go on,” I say.

I wait some more.

“Tell me,” I command.

“I remember that when Miss Brent died you spoke at the assembly, my dog has just died can you please do the same?” He asks.

I am speechless, not only do I not know Hershel, I didn’t even know he had a dog, certainly I didn’t know the dog well enough to write him an epitaph.

I want to refuse but I don’t because I like to think I am a good person which is how I ended up standing in front of a grave on Saturday morning, speaking about a dog I never even met before.

Hershel is quiet, but I can tell he is sad.

When I finish he just stares at the grave, then he walks away, I follow him, into his mansion, because he is rich, like famous person rich, given a tour of his house, that rich.

We walk into wealth and he just stands there at the threshold, during the tour I saw a gaming room, I want to go there but Hershel is silent.

Then the maid comes up to us with a lovely bouquet of flowers that would fill up my whole house, she tries to give them to Hershel but he is just staring at the floor again.

I take them and thank her, before reading the note out loud.

“We will send a replacement, love Mum and Dad,” the words are out of my mouth before I even realise what I am saying, I re-read it appalled, and I carefully put the note down.

“You may go now,” Hershel says looking at me directly.

“You can come with me, my mum is not a chef, but she’s making spaghetti and meat balls, I don’t have a pet but I have a little sister, she’s almost two and she’s basically an animal,” I say tucking a braid behind my ear as I take my bike out of the shed.

“You do not have to be nice to me because –”

“Because you lost your pet and your parents are mean, yeah I do, come on it will make me feel better.” I say grabbing his forearm and dragging him along, it’s awkward with my bike, and I scratch my leg but I don’t let go.

“You do not have to drag me, if it will make you feel better then I will come.” He says going into the shed to take out his own bicycle.

I laugh, “Was that an actual joke? I thought you didn’t even know what it was.”

Hershel smiles as both get on our bikes and ride back to my house.

 

 

 

Poems: Grey eyed Earth

These woods are dark and lovely

These woods are dark and lovely

The bluest eyes that turned to grey

A pull that weakened through the day.

 

The sightless caress that defies lore

A fiery temperament which exposes the molten core.

 

The generous gift she freely shares.

To the ungrateful children that pollute her airs.

 

In anger she lashes out with her elements

In our arrogance we plead our ignorance.

 

Slowly fading she waits…

To see if one day our ignorance abates.

And we reverse the mistakes we made in our haste.

That condemned her to this pre-mature fate.

Beautiful Lakes

Beautiful Lakes

Gorgeous water

Gorgeous water