No, I'm Just Delusional (Phan) RE-WRITE IN PROCESS

Remembering Sunday

Dan ~

It is when find myself floating in and out of the infinite corners of my mind that I ask the big question. It’s 2 am, and despite a very attractive naked body, with eyes as blue as sky at midday and hair as dark (and slightly ginger) as the sky when the stars twinkle,  laying on my chest, my worries do not cease to keep me awake. They are ever present, always circling and setting only for another seemingly more important or urgent worry to take it’s place. However, the only worry worth my time is: what the hell am I doing?

His arm is wrapped tightly around my torso and his hair is tickling my neck, which as uncomfortable as it would be with anyone else, doesn’t both me in the slightest. His grip is tight and his face is settled and softened over my heart beat and although I can’t see his legs, I can feel them entwined with my own beneath the blankets. As incredible as what we had just done is,  I can’t help but worry. Worry for the morning and tomorrow and the next day and the day after that, because what will happen then? What will happen when I can offer no answers, no support, no magic escape, only more pain and let downs. What can I ever say to him, how could I ever  apologise for everything i’ve done. There is nothing can say. Because pretty much every problem in his life today is all my fault, whether it be a conscious fault for not, it is still there and there is no denying that what just happened is all my fault. The fact is that this boy, this incredible person who has managed to turn my world absolutely upside down, his life is being destroyed, and despite being the person doing the destroying I have no idea how to change what is happening. I am ruining his life.

Just plain old simple me.

But I guess nothing is simple anymore. I decide that rather  dwell on thoughts that I can find no answer for, I will  try to clear all thoughts from head. As hard as disentangling myself from him is and as painful as it feels, I do it anyway. Because I can’t lay there like everything was okay, because it’s not. How could it ever be.

I sit on the corner of my bed, I put a pillow for him to hold on to instead of me, but he has stiffened slightly and I immediately reconsider going. I then tell myself I’m being ridiculous, and decide to go anyway. I slip on some sweatpants  and a Captain America t-shirt as well as an oversized Muse jumper and some shoes. The room is dark but his outline is visible. I shuffle closer to him and place a hand on his cheek. I brush the hair from his eyes and he relaxes once again. His body is splayed across the bed, with only his arm and head visible. He looks so peaceful, something I fear I have not seen in far too long. I sigh and dig my fingers into my hair wishing life was simpler. My hair is curly and I feel the waves brush against my forehead and know that there are dark circles rimming my eyes. I brush the sleep from the corners of my eyes and rub my forehead whilst resting my elbows on my knees. What have I done?

My head is pounding as I walk down the hallway, not only with the realisation of what we had just done but also with the after effects of alcohol. I can’t think straight and every thought is dark and heavy. I haven’t been sober in days.

Before I know it I am sitting in my car, contemplating where to go. I decide that before I change my mind and go back inside and just pretend again, I’ll start the car and see where the wind takes me. I really shouldn’t be driving, the alcohol is still very influential in my reflexes and thoughts but my emotional state is what is most concerning. The more I think about what we’d just done the more I feel my throat close, choking me. The prominent feeling of guilt is becoming so much more, my stomach is erupting and my heart is on fire.

The more I think the more the tears start to flow, they stream down my face and onto my shirt. I am sobbing, my arms shaking against the steering wheel and my legs cramping against the brake and accelerator. All I want to do is go back and sleep. But I can’t. Because there is something in my bed,  a face that I can’t get out of my head, one that will both haunt and torture me until the day that I die. A face so beautiful, how could I not fall in love with it.