Act II Scene i

I never thought I’d be here again. In the dark using this as a torch so you can see me. See me screaming, see me in pain, see me begging you for help. Back on the street where nothing’s changed, just my age, just the dents on my forehead and the fact that I’m not dead.  I can still feel it and hear it, can’t stand to be near it. The sadness, the lies, the hate, the goodbyes. The shit I knew would never last, the laughs, the broken hearts, the violins playing as I walk past. I’m back here now, are you pleased to see me? I was never gone really.

The new story is a scar, a love story that started at a bar, started with an ‘aren’t you going to introduce me to her?’ – ‘The most beautiful girl I have ever seen’, quoted from the words spoken on the night by a guy whom I like to call me.  Sitting upstairs the inside of me cares what she’s saying, watching her lips move, but also looking into her eyes. This girl is not just for tonight, I have seen perfection and it’s something I like.

Our first kiss we cannot remember, but we can feel that it happened. On the concrete next to the door, no eyes watching only the street lights saw. I knew in the morning my head would be sore, I could feel the whiskey hit me, my bravery made me become risky and we both remember that I asked you to kiss me.

I have thought about you every second of every day since then. I have called you ten out of ten. My best friend. I have called you my girl, my baby, the one who was going to save me. But I have also called you a cunt, a bitch, a slut and a whore, you stabbed me and I fell to floor, the crowd are screaming and they are something I cannot ignore, the count is at 8, can I get to my feet before it’s too late?

I can still hear your heels click as you walk up the path; I can still see you wearing that scarf. I can still see you taking your iPhone in to the bath; I can still hear your Jimmy Carr laugh.

See I heard it again, but I never heard it when you were with them, I’m talking about your ‘friends’. And I never wanted to be that guy, who made you lie and made you cry. But I think it’s time you opened your eyes, contacts in and say goodbye.

I’m not sticking by your side to deal with mugs, who haven’t got your back and give you drugs. I’m not saying that I’m whiter than white, I’ve sinned like the devil but I know what’s right. You may think I’m immature, but really that’s not the case. I’m wise beyond my years; I’ve fought a war with myself before this place. Shed my tears and have gone to waste. I just can’t come across like I’m obviously having to be brave, I have to behave like I’m not about to cave. So if that means seeing a brighter side then I do, people don’t need to see the fighter behind the type-writer, I have nothing and everything to prove.

That night is a nightmare, I can’t bare it. Notting Hill, rotting still in my gut. Just my luck that I gave trust to a slut. So many questions, so many buts.. I can pretend that I don’t give a fuck but I do. I’ve never given a fuck about anything more in my life. It’s vile, and it doesn’t make sense. I mean offence when I say they are disgusting. Sly rats that stick together, a rat that touched you and you let it. That crawled up your body and kissed you. Kissed my lips, held my hips. Then came back the next day for whatever it was he thought he was promised? And after that you couldn’t even bother to be honest. Willing to make my life a lie. I will never even begin to understand why. For as long as I live and I will place a bet, that I’ll never forgive and never forget.

I am shatter proof; my life is the proof that I cannot be destroyed. I can despise, hate, be annoyed. I can cry, bleed, feel cheated from the life I expected and wanted. I am haunted by the past. I can’t let it go because without my ghosts then my head has no company and then time is no fun for me. It’s like I enjoy being sad, because it’s better than being nothing. It’s better than feeling nothing.

Trust to me is like steel, it’s beautiful and real. But when trust like steel begins to rust, it’s becomes dirty and fragile and then must not be trusted. It will snap and break, and if you knew it was rusty and you decided to still build something with it then it’s your fault if you get hurt. Keep your eyes peeled on the stuff you decide to build. 

And I’ve decided to build something with you, and I know we’re rusty, but I need you trust me. You are broken, and I always knew. I said from day one I will try to fix you. Selotape or glue, staples or blue-tac, you will one day be as good as new and maybe what I felt before will come back.

Draw the butterflies on your wrists, don’t cut them in half. Don’t scratch them, don’t let the blood seep from their skin. You can be anything. Your pain hurts me. I will fight your fears. On my cheek I can feel your tears. Your scars are ours.

To be continued…