STRANGERS

Harry Fordé // It's Just a Day

Tell me a very cliché thing-

I slowly open my eyes as the sound of the digital alarm clock started banging through my ears.

I let it bother me as I lay flatly into my bed, thick blanket still covering my half-naked body.

I sighed as I stood up, sitting on the edge of my bed. My head hung-low and my eyes is still tired of what happened last night.

Yeah, I remembered.

Suddenly, I realized that I'm finally alone, here in my room and the other side of my bed is empty where she's supposed to be sleeping, peacefully and I supposed to wake her up for breakfast because, I'm too dumb to cook food.

I finally decided to stood up and walk into the kitchen, yawning and spreading my arms to stretch my muscles after having sex with her every night but now, it seems that it's just tired and feels numb from a very long sleep.

I stare blankly into the sink. I opened the faucet and washed my hands. I didn't flinch as I wash my face with the cold running water, feels totally wrong.

Actually, I'm hungry. I haven't eat anything from last night after what happened. I just drank a lot of alcohol and get drunk, then I puke my shit out before falling asleep in my bed.

Seems I'm still fortunate, there's this canned goods in one of the kitchen's cabinet. I guess, I'll just deal with this blessings for a week and I promise myself that I'm going to learn how to cook, there's a lot of videos I can watch in youtube though.

The oblivion is what I desire right now. I want to forget everything about us, especially about her; her face, her smile, her hair, her touch, her skin, and the feeling when we're having sex.

It's not even cliché anymore, it feels so different from that.

I guess, I'll just need to learn how to move on and it's going to be tough for me because I loved her, I really fucking do love her.

Fuck, this is the worst day of my life.