Life's Hard, But I Am Writing

I am still struggling with missing my ex and hating how he changed into the person that he said he wouldn’t and became mentally abusive. The past few weeks have been an emotional yoyo. I keep going from being okay, to crying hysterically at my desk, to feeling like I can get through the day but being very fragile, to hating everyone and wanting to be on my own, to missing the old/nice him so much that I can’t concentrate.

Today, however, I forced my thoughts to concentrate and spill all of my fragile and yoyoing energy into a teeny, tiny little early Arcturus High #2 paragraph. It isn’t polished or edited and I haven’t even completed all of the dialogue sentence parts, but I needed to try to prove to myself that I can still write…

 

“Caitlyn, may I have a word outside?” Mr Penn announced to the room. Caitlyn’s head shot up. Her eyes widened, as she sniffed a sharp inhale. Looking towards Mr Penn, Caitlyn gave a small nod, as she rose from her seat to follow her teacher toward the back of the classroom. As she shuffled past Lyra, Caitlyn’s line of sight was drawn to Fabian, who plonked himself back down in his seat.

“What did Mr Penn want?” Pete asked him. Sensing Caitlyn’s stare, Fabian looked up. Their eyes met. He gave Caitlyn a soft smile. A warmth prickled in her chest and Caitlyn felt her cheeks begin to burn. She shuddered out of her thoughts just in time to avoid bumping into Carlos, who was waving his arms around.

“I failed my Chemistry test,” she heard Fabian tell his friends. “Mr Penn was just giving me extra homework.”

“You failed?” exclaimed Oscar in disbelief. “But you’re the smart one. What hope have the rest of us got if you failed Mr Penn’s test?”

“I dunno, I guess it was just harder than I thought.” Fabian’s voice faded into the background of the Naeniam Exponentia’s experiment chatter.

            Lowering her head, Caitlyn made her way outside of Mr Wye’s music classroom and into the corridor. A lump formed in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, looking up at Mr Penn. “I was too harsh on Bentley, wasn’t I? I didn’t mean to; it’s just he wasn’t being careful and-”

“You’re not in trouble, Caitlyn,”

“Sir, I’m really sorry, I-”

“I said, you’re not in trouble, Caitlyn.”

 

- Josie -

Dream 24/04/2026

Warmth wrapped itself around her chest and waist. A soft, fluttering murmur hummed in her throat. The stiffness that had become the norm, holding her hunched shoulders high, fizzled away. A light prickle grazed the back of her neck. Letting out a soft breath, she relaxed into the sensation behind her. A warm gentle breath brushed a comforting tickle her ear. Her eyes remained closed, as she released the pressure in her shoulder blades. Another quiet murmur escaped her. A chuckle tickled the back of her neck. “I’m here,” whispered a safe, deep, comforting voice. His arms, around her chest and waist, gave a gentle squeeze. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” A small whimper escaped her, as she wrapped her arms around his and squeezed them tight.

- Josie -

Dream 21/04/2026

A blur of black came into focus. She squinted her eyes, as the world around her drifted away into a gentle hum. The image before her sharpened, as it formed into a significant shape. A pair of mesh charcoal-coloured trainers came into focus. Dried dirt scuffed at the toe and edges of the fabric. The laces were loosely tied, with the loop and aglet tucked deep beneath the shoe’s tongue, as though they had been pulled on and off many times, without undoing the laces. Her expression stiffened, as she narrowed her brows. A breathy hum escaped her, as she concentrated hard. The thumping in her chest beat slow, but loud. Pulse pounded in her ears. Poking out from the trainers were a pair of faded black socks, with a splodge of a vibrant, parrot green, almost hidden by the legs of ebony-coloured jeans. She heard her name. A flutter tingled in her chest. Her lips parted. ‘That voice,’ she thought, as the warmth inside of her spread.

“Sorry,” spoke the deep, familiar, male voice. She gasped. Her stomach swirled around in a circumbendibus. Colour rushed to her cheeks. ‘It’s him. It’s really him,’ she cried to herself, as her vision blurred. ‘He’s really here. He’s sorry. He means it.’ She sniffed, as a salty sting prickled the inner corners of her eyes.

“Josette!” called a female voice, in the distance. “Josette!” Gasping, the red-head threw her vision over her right shoulder. A lady with a bob of silver hair hobbled towards her, with a wrinkled brow. “Josette!” she cried. “I’ve lost my car. I don’t know what to do.” The lady trembled before her. The red-head threw her arms around the older lady and held her close.

“It’s okay, Tracey,” she spoke in a soft tone. “I’ll help you find it. We’ll look together.”

“Oh thank you,” cried the older lady, as she gripped onto the red-head’s elbow. “I just didn’t know what t’ do. It was there. I know it was. I parked right outside of work. I always do. My old man’s gonna kill me, I’ve lost our car.” A trembling wailed cry left the older lady’s mouth, as the creases on her forehead deepened. Her bottom lip quaked, as her eyes quivered.

Josette gave Tracey’s arm a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay,” the red-head reassured her, in a soft, soothing voice. “You’re not alone. We’ll find your car together. It’s okay.” With a gentle tug, the red-head led the older lady back in the direction of their workplace. Stroking her colleagues arm all the while, a knot formed in the red-head’s stomach, as she thought back to that familiar male voice and the pair of trainers. ‘Was it real?’ she wondered. ‘Was he real? Was any of it real?’

- Josie -