And I am lost amidst the raging sea. Slowly composure is being lost. I tremble at the sight of him. Of anyone. Or I am vile and cruel. I break down in front of strangers most days now. But my form and tenacity protect me from sympathy. And I was never that pretty anyway.
And what would become of this precocious child? She had the money in her hand to book the flight and had the note written on pretty pink paper. A little suitcase packed by the foot of the bed. But she did not leave. Not because she owes the people around her. Because she is spineless and incapable of making a single remarkable choice. How pathetic.
My tongue twisted out his name and my bones became chalk. I spoke for hours of everything he had become. Of his bitter betrayal. It is not as though I want vengeance. I am just bitter. Bitter that I allowed myself to become this whilst he became something so spectacular. I threw it all away because I felt worthless. I hoped with all my heart that I would come across a tiny little sign. But the sign never came. I let this slip away. Deemed not quite good enough. A cheap imitation of him. He is the cheap imitation of me. Not that a single creature in the world would believe me now. He has a full collection of work. Fucking beautiful work. And I sold my soul for a little security. A home. A job I fucking despise. A job that diminishes my self worth with every time I step through it's door. I should have stayed in Ireland. I should have kept the ocean between us. I should have made something of myself.