Fahckmylife's Blog
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This is an oldie too but I am in the process of reworking it….

Mantra

At four o’clock in the morning, she sat in her dimly lit kitchen, staring blankly ahead of her, contemplating the day.  She turned it over and over in her mind, following all possibilities down endless capillaries, and it made her sick.  Her left hand began to shake.

Today had been a beautiful day filled with sepia tones and long silences engraved with implications. Today had twinkled and ambled along, time passing quickly, eventful but with exaggerated slow motion too. She supposed that she could be pretentious enough to even say it felt like a long and slow relaxing sigh that had been waiting an eternity to be exhaled. She smiled weakly.  It had been a nice day and it had all clicked into place.

He slept upstairs now. Nestled tidily in a foetal position in her bed, like a little embryo in a sack. He was probably snuggled up with his securities and possibly a pillow that he thinks is her. Snoozing away, perhaps even satisfied with his decision tonight. Despite her scepticism about his motivations for tonight’s events she was secretly happy with the way things worked out too. In fact, she thought that might be the understatement of the year.

Up until now everything has been a long series of chaotic disappointments. A sequence of events that have been built upon unstable foundations.  She had always felt broken. I never could never be anything but that.

There’s only so much smiling you can fake before your face starts to hurt, right?

She thought about taking  the time to sit down and break down everything that had happened to bring her to this point  but realised that it would make her just lie down and never get up again.

What’s the point, right? It’s not like you matter in the grand scheme of things and everyone else has their own shit, right? There’s no competition with that and to be honest it’s all relative anyway. That person’s dog dying is the same to them as you being beaten up for no reason.

She noticed that her hand had stopped twitching.  It moved to her eye and she swept her hair back repeatedly from her eyes to attempt to combat it.  She knew what she had to do. Her solution had started to crystalise just after midnight in the darkness, lying under his warm arm in the sweaty little bedroom.  She had slunk down the stairs in her soft dressing gown and rabbit slippers.  It wasn’t a question of what but how.  And now she sat in the grey light, listening to the hum of the fridge, pondering the possible outcomes.

They had drank some wine earlier. They went for dinner too, which was when her head became a little warm and foggy. In the last three months she’d found some kind of constant in him. She never had her hopes up though. She was expecting to chalk it all up to experience. A totally out of the blue day, in no way contrived,  and made her feel that there was a purpose to everything. The obvious flaw is that eventually this, like everything, must end.

Having a grating feeling way down upon you everyday taints your view of the world. Inside you feel like you could do so much more. Inside you are stuck watching your imagination take you to the places that you once thought were options. Challenged and motivated and happy. On the other hand, lethargy sets in too, ruining any chance you have of physically doing them. You can blame this all on tiny insignificant details and trivialities. Maybe, even just write it off as depression and use the excuse of waiting until it passes. Ultimately, whatever state you are in, you remain the same and watch as everything and everyone around you changes.

She got up and filled herself a glass of water.  There was no need to rush anything.  She smiled at this silly notion as she wiped the moisture from the glass against her face.  She was warm.  Very warm and her breathing became shallow as she noticed it.  She sat back down and sipped the water, trying to calm herself, but not wake anyone.  A tight weight pressing on her chest and twisting in her gut.  A single tear trickles down her cheek so she forces the water down in one go.

They had lay on the sofa at home afterwards, talking quietly and laughing. Everything moved slowly. When he wasn’t looking at her she traced the outline of his pretty jaw with her eyes and played with his perfectly formed fingertips. She thought about how she couldn’t have had a chance of making this more permanent, especially with the obvious physical inconsistencies between them in this hyper-superficial age. She had looked at the most minute of his features to reinforce this thought and sighed once this is confirmed.

Whatever his reasoning is for this I know it can’t end well.

Her biggest problem was always herself.

Despite somebody apparently wanting you, you can’t handle it.

Not only did she feel ugly but also unworthy. She attributed this to the fact that maybe when she was younger bad things happened.  When she had finally realised some people were nice the damage was already done. She just simply couldn’t believe that somebody would be interested in her physically, emotionally or whatever.  Well, at least without the intention of messing her around or using her.  She felt empty and as though she needed someone to make her complete.  This annoyed her, that she needed another, like she was a simpleton.

You aren’t a real person though. You’re still an empty vessel. The same gullible little kid that wanted to be liked.

She looked out at the sky.  Grey.  Bleak.  Silent.  The thought of writing something down crossed her mind.  She decided against it and opted to pace for a while.  Her breathing had relaxed.  She wouldn’t let herself cry anymore.  It wasn’t worth it.  Nothing had happened yet. 

He had said the words earlier.  Those three little words.  The words that ruined everything.  They implied obligation. They implied duty.  Despite this had felt something tug inside.  Something that she had promised herself could not be allowed.  Yet she said those three words back and she had meant them.  Now she was vulnerable.  Now he knew that she needed him too.  She was back in position that she had not been in for years, where she never wanted to return to, but all she could do was kiss and smile and cuddle him back.  The two staring in soft focus into each other’s eyes.  Now the thought made her sick.

Words are meaningless.  They can change.  They can be lies.  They can be open to interpretation.

She got another glass of water and headed to the press.  It was getting lighter outside.  She turned the heating on so she could run a bath. 

She did not want to have anything to do with him initially.  She had mocked him outwardly and how when asked about him she had said that there was nothing to it.  She thought about how she would not contact him first because she was trying to convince herself otherwise.  Then she thought about how she when she got a text from him her face would light up. 

This is as good as it gets.  It’s all downhill from here.

She ran the bath and filled it with bubbles.  The steam made her hair stick to her forehead as she locked the door, repeating the mantra It’s all downhill from here over and over in her head.  She slipped out of her clothes and wrote her message on the condensation of the mirror.

Tonight had been perfection.  Feeling loved and wanted and happy.  She could finally admit that.  Everything after would only prove her right; the pornography, the cheating, the fighting, the marriage, the kids, the hating each other, the ‘oh you’re letting yourself go’ conversation, the smell in the bathroom after, the in-laws, the crappy holidays, being taken for granted, getting a nine to five shit job to buy a house together, the loss of interest in sex and then finally looking at each other one day with pure unadulterated contempt.

She sank down in the bath and started to take the tablets.  It was 4.35.  She had five hours or so before he would wake.  She smiled and swallowed as many as she could.

And the mirror in the bathroom for months after would end up saying ‘its all downhill from here’ when anyone had a shower.