Flitting Away.

You know one of those moments when you feel like the world has shunned you to your own little corner, like a recluse of silent and lonely companionship. One of those times when you felt your stomach turn and the hair on the back of arm stand. When all you can listen to are sad, piano accompanied songs that make you sigh and stare far out your window as you're watching lights and people walking on by, devoid of any care in the world.

When all you can watch are comedies of your favourite serial and movies to distract you for another couple of hours to pull you through another day till you feel tired and then you head over to the liquor cabinet to snog a glass of whisky and pop a couple of flu pills just to make sure you're light headed enough so you won't feel embarassed talking to your pillow and holiding it tight enough just to make you remember and feel like it was that one moment again when you held that special girl in your arms and the world around you disappeared.

Then you speak endlessly to her, recollecting that one very important conversation. Where the stars floated by endleslly and the clouds played second fiddle to the glorious moon.

You get up in the morning, with every muscle in your morning refusing to move. You just want to lie in bed and pretend you woke up with her beside you and you're watching her sleeping. You push aside the conscious and you move to the bathroom. Seated, all you can feel is this deep ache within you and the settling heaviness just begs for some release. You light up a cigarette and you plan out another flu pill to get you through the morning. As you feel the water washing down on you all you remember is the times when you imagined her right beside you there and then all busy with the morning getaways. Separate in delusion but singular in a single strife.

As you close the gate you think to yourself, just another day. You walk with your headphones plugged in and you just feel like crying because this life wasn't the life you'd thought you'd ever have and the depression settles in so deep it feels like a thorn in your skin. You get on the bus and you ignore the glaring faces and the unkind stares, you sit as far back as you can go and once you're settled you close your eyes and you still feel the ache settle even further in you inner self. You still feel like crying.

You get to the office, you sit down and heave another sigh. Your cubicle surrounds you from other eyes and you can't see them looking if they can't really see you. You relax and hit back into the morbid cycle of repetitiveness. The hours pass and soon it's lunch. You walk over to the canteen, strangers and acquaintances all smiling and cheerful with a glazed touch on their smile. You really wonder how they can have it so good.

You head back home soon after. With the world on your shoulders and olive in your skin, with the crimson of the hungry and with the ache of the century and somehow all you wish was that there was something easier to do and someone to pull you through each day. Someone you could run to, to care for, to have her come to you, to watch tv with, to have dinner with, to just lie back and watch the people walking on by.

You walk through the familiar doors, another lonely silent apartment night in. He's there, like he always has been but you know it's not him that you seek. It's deeper than that, it's more painful but it's more important like a flashing alarm signal. It's calling out to you, that's something's very wrong.

You can both keep me here because it's easier to teach but you can't make me truly happy.