There has to be one somewhere in there, laying dormant and jumping at the first opportunity of vicious pain.
"I see him there, typish in his way of sitting and looking around - snooping eyes with arrogant grace. My heart skips a beat, there is a sudden pit in my stomach and my bladder cries foul.
A part of me wishes to smile, another part of me turns my head away. A part of me wants to wave out, another wants to not spoil it."
I don't really miss Pudgy Fingers, but there is a certain quality that i miss. (That's the big fuck up when you take synecdoche seriously in life.)
Does pretending that i did not see him, make me any calmer? No.
Does letting go help? No.
K is stuck in a limbo, and it is not a happy place -
the worse, she so deserves it!
Ps. Dear Oyster Seeker, without you, i would not have realised this vacuum, this folly and the unreasoned feeling thereafter. I am in deep gratitude.
