cigarettes ☹ alex turner

XXII

XXII

Kimberly Eve Browne

I FELT THE soft, beige sand rest between my toes and under the heels of my feet, being especially therapeutic for them. Inhaling the fresh air of the slightly sunny yet damp atmosphere, I carefully payed attention to the landscape before me; how the intensely vibrant sun bounced on the surface of the deep, musky blue sea, and how the movement of the sea was repetitive; a never ending cycle of the same, indifferent movement.

Easily, the sharp, crisp sea breeze cooled my slightly flushed cheeks whilst swiftly brushing my long blond hair and Alex's sky blue lacoste behind me. Deep in thought, my fingers unknowingly fumble with the end of the soft, fabric of his shirt, as a face that seemed as though it was perfectly sculpted by the powerful hands of God slipped into my brain, the image of him becoming more and more prominent as time passed, almost like a polaroid picture.

His voice was silk; smooth and admirable. The musical heaven that is his voice was so unimagniably gorgeous that it was hard to describe. Hours and Hours I had spent wrapped up in the thought of Alex, the way cling film hugs tightly onto biscuits was the way I sinked deeply into the thought of him. "I'm falling for you," he repeats certainly in my mind, a light in his eyes more luminous than burning magnesium.

Despite the burning magnesium in his eyes, which were the colour of hot cocoa, sprinkled with tiny flecks of gold like mini marshmallows, a slight pain was secluded the way that the moon appears, one part or side of it always being hidden. However also just like the moon, the side that is hidden is always known, despite its greatest efforts.

I hated thinking about him. As much as I am falling for him, thinking about him just brought back so many prepossessing yet injurious memories. How does someone sweep in to my life, and mean so much to me? How did I even get lucky enough to even breathe around him?

My romantic feelings towards Alex are roses that shall never die, but the flower that holds the other emotions towards him are dying slowly. I'm sure I'll miss him for a lifetime, but I don't miss him as strongly. I don't feel as emotionally unstable as I previously did.

Loss is a weird thing; it's clinging on to something, clinging till your fingers ache incredibly and upon that occasion, you realise that there's nothing you can do. Loss loses it's vibrance with time, like electricity yet both can be recharged or triggered again.

Betrayal stings like a bitch, and the way I reacted is probably the worst I've ever been. When one is betrayed, to that person, everything seems wrong with themselves, even if there is nothing wrong. Maybe that wasn't the case for me but everything felt like a flaw because he betrayed me. My self esteem still isn't the highest, but it isn't because of him. It's because of who I am.

My phone vibrated impatiently in my loose, thick black jeans; it's good to know that my fat self is finally loose in something. Message from Richard flashed brightly on the screen, perhaps begging me to do something. Opening the message it read:

Richard: Thanks for apologising. I suppose I'm the only one out of the two of us who wants to make things work.

In deep frustration, I sighed as I rubbed my forehead. Of course I wanted to make things work, more than anything, I was always incredibly afraid that he didn't; I couldn't deal with anymore rejection. I've never been as good as he has, I haven't been anywhere near as a good friend as he is.

Richard is my rock; someone who has never truly left me. I didn't want him to stay over pity, but it sometimes did feel like that. He had put through my behaviour that was completely disgusting. I took it out on everyone instead of letting people in and letting them help me.