‘I have coughed up the things inside of me
and kissed strangers, and killed demons, and fallen off a boat in the middle of the ocean,
and I’ve always been less afraid
than I am now.’
No matter how often I wash the dishes, they still get dirty again. No matter how often I do my laundry, it needs doing again. No matter how often I tidy my room, it gets messy again. No matter how often I smoke, my craving is never satisfied for long. No matter how often I have sex, I still ache for you. No matter how much work I do, there is still more to be done. No matter how much sleep I get, I’m still tired within a few hours of being awake.
I guess I’m tired of repetition. I guess life is exhausting me. I guess I’m tired of trying.
‘When I look at him, it feels like fear. His eyes are green and full of shadows. His mouth is beautiful. He leans towards me and I know. I know. It hasn’t happened yet, but it’s going to. Number eight is love.’
