Sober Sunday

Crouching on the ground, scrambling through the contents of my bag at 6:45am on a Sunday morning I could have easily been mistaken for a crack whore wildly searching for her next hit.

Fortunately that wasn't the case. After emptying half of my shit onto the ground I finally found the small silver key which had slipped between the pages of my second hand hermes notebook.

Success!

I swung open the big old Dirthouse door and made my way into the living room. It was a spectacle to not only see the DH in perfect living condition, not a bottle or pair of panties in sight (the usual reminisce of a big weekend) but to come home to a completely empty house. Where were the Queens?

Well Queen L was at the snow, Lady B was at her parents holiday house in the Blue Mountains and Countess K was on tour for her mini dance production. For the first time in longer than I could remember it was just me, severely hungover and alone.

I looked at my face in the mirror and instantly shook my head. The truth was I hadn't been home for some time either. Two day old make up, dirty hair and sore chapped lips, the fact that I had barely slept a wink over the last two days didn't benefit my complexion either.

The next moment I took to do all of the things that a girl can simply cannot do in the company of the one she admires. I removed every slither of make up, before going to town on an abundance of blackheads that had miraculously appeared all over my nose. Flossed my teeth in a painfully slow and indulgent way and then made myself a huge mug of coffee that I was hoping would send me running to the toilet.

After a long hot shower I took some pain killers, drew the curtains and slipped into bed.

There's a certain luxury about being in your own bed, in fact I can't imagine what it would be like to share that intimate space with another slightly larger human day in and day out.

I had decided long before this moment that I wasn't a relationship person, sure I can pretend to feel clean when I get out of your shower that is barely equipped with a bar of soap or use my finger to brush my teeth however I can only really unwind and feel at ease when I'm alone raw and bare and relaxed and free.

I woke up five hours later, it felt like a lifetime. I slowly unravel myself from my sheets and prop my laptop up on the bed.

I want to write about you but I draw the line at this:

If we could stay in this moment forever I'd be content, in fact I'd always be happily satisfied in every way but sadly, this is not how the world works. Sometimes relationships continue to grow, they get better and stronger and more intense but more times than not they deteriorate not long after the first kiss. When you first set your sights on someone mystery and suspense creates a tightly wound knot in the pitt of your stomach but eventually those intense feelings begin to unravel until you're left with nothing more than unfulfilled expectations. If I could just leave it here and never speak to you again it would be an honourable move, it would be the defining point of how far i've come in my small yet robust experience with love and all emotions in relation to it. But something tells me that I'll just be flaking out on a marvellous story, the next chapter of self exploration in my life.

The heaviness of what I've just come to realise makes my head spin, what better way to not deal with this situation than to just go back to bed. In fact I think thats exactly what I might do.

Goodnight all x