One month. A little more than a month ago I thought to myself, I'll never write again. Frank called one month ago and yelled I do not wish to be a character in one of your little stories Belle. I do not want to participate in the wordvomit you call blog. You stole my personality, put it on display, and I feel used Belle, I feel used.
And so I stopped. Without a word, without a goodbye.
Im sorry about that. That was rude. But since then I've 1) Slept in his bed twice, numb from cranberryjuice and gin 2) decided he is not the boss off me. He's simply father figure Frank. Triple F. The F man. Fuck him. Fuck me. Fuck the instructions on the back of my sleeping pills "should not be mixed with alcohol"
His breaths into the back of my neck was like a lullaby, his warmth made me feel safe. That night my heart broke all over again, that night I was a little girl whos mother drank to much and whos role modell left for a job in Dubai (or was it France?) That night I cried untill there was nothing left to cry about, nothing left to empty.
Nothing left to put on display
4 comments:
I'm glad you're back.
I'm sick of this display and things and just everything. I'm glad you are too.
I hate people who read blogs and then... ruin it. You know? But then again... I'm not sure.
You write such wonders.
It's lovely to see you back.
I've missed you and your writing
xx
Glad to see you posting again.
Your blog is beautiful.
we are all characters in someones blog, we all play a part in the novel of someones lfe, you wont be the last to write him, for all to see.
we are just one part of a hundred peoples stories, i am yours and you are mine, and i will write you and you will write me, no matter whats said, whats said is said and will continue to be said again
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