concept of change
semi inspired by true events.
collection of writing
if you have a request feel free to send it in, just keep it relatively clean. not about that full on stuff as it makes me cringe to write.
enjoy!
“I’m leaving.” I sighed to myself and changed my stance. Moving my left leg to cross over my right, I still looked uncomfortable. Pushing my hair back I tried to say it with a smile, but my reflection still looked less than pleased. “I’m leaving?” Changing the tone of my voice I shook my head at the mirror, knowing it’s no use how I try to phrase it, it doesn’t mean it’ll hurt less.
Zoning out from myself in the mirror my eyes wander to the bags and boxes packed behind me. The room once filled with life and was often considered cosy, inviting and homely, now empty. Seeing the bare walls seems like move in day, everyone anxious as I tried to make use of the space.
The room is a shell of the place I’ve called home for almost a year, but I am a shell of the person I once was. Dark indented circles lie heavily under my eyes, my skin has become more pigmented around my nose and mouth from all the nights of sobbing, unsure what was happening. I lost myself here, in this room, in this city, but not with him.
Out of everyone, he’ll be the most difficult to phrase it to and attempt to explain what has happened. More importantly, why I didn’t tell him sooner. He’ll try and convince me to stay, to try and give it another go. I can see him now, pondering over if it was his fault, that he didn’t see it sooner. But that’s the thing, no one did. It didn’t matter how close I was with anyone, my mind refused to let me say anything to anyone.
Leading me to this moment, to the last time I will see him and I will leave heartbroken. The last thing that seems to be together will be torn apart, all because of my broken mind.
I grab a hold of my bag and jacket before shutting my door, knowing it’ll be one of the last times I’ll hear the creaking that sounds like a dying dog. Standing in front of the metal doors they chime open, the smell of cigarette smoke surrounds me, along with last nights memories echoing in the small box as I descend to the ground floor alone.
My phone pings from my pocket and my heart is in my throat at the thought of the message. I fight the bitter chill that clings to my exposed skin and check. He’ll be running late, as usual. For once I’m glad, I can silently rehearse what I’ll say, how I’ll phrase it with some level of sensitivity and less brash.
Taking a seat in the back of the coffee shop I rest against the plush fabric wall that sticks out into the right places against my spine. A barista presents a large grey mug with the sides sticking out in an hourglass shape. I can’t help but smile at the unique quality of the mug, but they always seem homely. They never fail to remind me of my home, of the cupboard crammed with mugs, none matching from all over the place. Each has a story, and now this one will be stained with mine along with the rim of brown from the tea.
Next to the mug is a small saucer, this unlike the mug is white and is spotted with pale blue and swirls of yellow. Sitting politely on top is a slice of lemon cake, iced lightly, just like it always is. Sipping my tea I can’t help but nibble at the cake, knowing he’ll always want some even if he refuses at first.
Lifting the mug to my lip I watch the steam rise from it, my vision is blurred as my eyes fall on the perfect shade of brown of the tea as it contrasts against the pale grey interior of the clay. “Hey?” Spluttering the tea back into the mug I cough lightly, clearing my throat.
The mug slams onto the table as I reach for the napkin that he slides towards me. Coughs continue to follow as he sits down, my eyes avoiding his as I feel them watering already. “Sorry,” Motioning to my eyes. “went down the wrong way.”
He brushed it off as if it were nothing. Because to him, it is nothing. To me, this is everything. “So, how’s the essay coming? Saw your post the other week about the stress of it all.” A soft laugh escapes his lips as he lifts the mug he brought with him to the table.
His is an ordinary shape a small cappuccino mug. It’s plain white, no decoration which contrasts the person who sits opposite me. He’s a man who can barely contain his own creative thoughts, on our first date I said three words and he wrote them down. By the next date, he used them to compose a song.
“It’s erm, not really going anywhere.” Words were becoming my enemy, revolting against me in my moment of need. I can feel my legs tremble underneath the table, sweat building under my jacket as he focuses on me, eyes full of content.
He pauses, mid-sip. “How so? Do you need some help on it? I mean, I know I’m not supposed to, but-” Closing my eyes I can’t stop the words pouring out of my mouth.
“I’m leaving.” My eyes remain shut as my mind tries to force itself back together, trying to convince my heart it will be alright. Slowly, they open and he’s further away, fully leaning back in his chair avoiding me.
I watch him intently. He lifts his arm up and covers his face, wiping it downwards and then pushes it up towards his flattened mop. On the table rest his glasses, the ones that first caught my attention as they’re not typical, they aren’t trying too hard to make a statement. Instead, they fit him, the him I’ve gotten to know in the past year.
Inhaling deeply he turns to face me, his hands' inches from mine now across the table. The only thing between them is the slice of cake, the one he usually can’t resist. But other matters are more important than that for once. “What changed?” Emotion drools from every word, emotion his eyes are hiding by focusing on the mugs whilst I focus on the window and those who pass by.
“I, I’m not healthy.” I’ve never explained it before, not to him. Few people know the words, words that could nudge me in the right direction of describing it. But I’m on my own, no one to help explain why I can’t explain this.
His left-hand reaches for my right, holding onto my fingertips. Both of our focuses shift to each other's eyes. His filled with fear chipping at the icy blue as if they’ll crack at any second. “Is it, is it fatal?”
I shake my head in response. “It’s not like that.” Sighing deeply I try to stick the plasters back to my mind, hoping the sticky side is somewhat constructive. “My mental health, it’s been shot to bits.”
“Have you been to-” I nod before he can finish. “What about-” Another nod. “Did you ever try those-” Reaching into my pocket I show him the tablets, half empty now. He goes quiet, unsure what else to say.
Clearing my throat I put the tablets away, not wanting them to be noticed. “I know you’re surprised.”
“One word for it.” He huffs.
“Just know that no one knows. Besides the head of the department. They had to know I’m withdrawing.” I explain, but he seems unphased.
“So, why wasn’t I told?” He asks, and I sigh.
Shy of a year begins to feel like it’s falling apart. Everything we’ve worked for tried to make happen is breaking before us in a matter of minutes. All of the classes we’ve been in, planned assessments and meetings. Neither of us intended something like this to happen, but sometimes life surprises you.
“I told her that I wanted to let all of my lecturers know. You deserve to hear it from me, not her or through some vague meaningless email.” My hand tightened in his. “You deserve better.” I mutter, my head dropping as I feel the tears rise in my eyes.
A single squeeze, just one. “No.” Lifting my head tears begin to fall, but he continues as if they weren’t there. “Don’t say that. Don’t pretend or try to say you aren’t good enough in a way that makes me feel guilty. Don’t push yourself away.” He reaches over, his hand cupping my cheek and wiping tears away with his thumb. I rest my head into his hand, closing my eyes at the warmth.
“I should’ve told you sooner.” The words barely come out, a mere whisper at most.
He shakes his head in response. “You were meant to tell me when you were ready. Even if it’s once you’ve left.” Silence falls between us, conversations around grow, but a laugh from him breaks it.
“What’s funny?” Confusion laces my voice as his frown becomes a large toothy grin.
“Guess it’s okay for us to date and tell people now?” I smile at the thought. A year of trying to keep it less detectable.
It doesn’t matter about being an adult, two consenting adults. He’s my lecturer, it would be an abuse of trust and could cause an effect on my grades. Keeping the facade of student and lecturer was humorous on many occasions, I could always see him scan the lecture theatre despite there being shy of two hundred of us. It wasn’t childish, it blossomed out of nowhere.
“But, I’ll be over a hundred miles away.” Stating the obvious I can think back to all those long distance relationships that crumble within a month. The strain never lasting on the heartstrings. “I don’t want us to become a shadow of what it has been.”
“It won’t. Plus, I’ve always wanted to see the countryside.” He smiles. A smile that tries to ease the looming thoughts that swirl like an oncoming thunderstorm. “If I can manage not looking at you for two hours whilst talking about Shakespeare then I can manage not seeing you for a week.” Pausing he shakes his head. “I mean, possibly.”
Smiling at him I sigh happily. “I’m just glad you know. And, and you didn’t take it as something else. You mean too much to me for you to be another person who disappears.”
“Technically you’re the one disappearing.” He jokes and takes a bite out of the lemon cake. “So, when are you leaving?”
I go quiet as he chews on the piece of cake. My free hand swirls around the circumference of the mug. He calls for me, his hand waving in front of my face. “Three days.” I clear my throat. “I leave in three days.”
Focusing on him he nods. His eyes clouding over as he lifts his glasses, placing them back on. “Well, three days to do everything you deserve to do and see before you leave.” He ponders the idea, “Shouldn’t be too hard I suppose.” With a small smile, he lifts the mug to his lips.
“What are you planning, Dan?” I ask, but he takes the mug from his lips. That smile still on his face.
“You’ll just have to wait and see.”
