I found this, written in a notebook from years ago…when I was my unhappy self. It’s strange to read the dark thoughts:
The door to the house stands open, gaping and black like the beginning of the end. All of the sash windows are up although most of the glass is smashed, the curtains flap in the breeze. As I walk up the road towards it, I can hear the raised voices, heavy accents and slamming doors. I hold my breath, wondering if I will see them.
I haven’t seen them in weeks but today, the house stands like a gaping wound in the street and makes the breath catch in my lungs.
Perhaps it is possible for a building to be full of poison, to affect the things and the people that live in it and the people who walk past it. You almost expect to see a small dirty face at the window, silently pleading for help and release.
I remember the first time I saw them, the kittens. Sitting in the window like those lucky Chinese cats, all inviting eyes and sweet faces. I took a picture of them on my camera phone, thinking that they looked like pretty porcelain statues. I didn’t know then that they were a bad sign, like an omen signalling that the day would be bad. If I only saw one, it might be bearable but two and I’d spend the day fighting for control of my emotions.
I sit down at my desk and check my emails. Those in the work account are the usual reminders of tasks I have failed to do and things I’ve already done wrong. I check my personal email. One new message. ‘[he] has sent you a message through Facebook’.
The burning sensation creeps up my face, my insides plummet as the pin prickles of fear wash over my scalp and down my spine. My eyes fill with tears.
I refresh the page to make sure that I haven’t zoned out of this world and into an alternative world. It’s still there. The tears spill over and stream down my face.
I should have known, it was going to be one of those days.