The prattlings of a coward…

So, this happens about 19,000 words in, so I don’t expect anyone to get the background… But hopefully it’s enough to get the ball rolling

“It worried me, this means to an end. The happiness in my own, solitary, company should be concerning… The time wasted, never truely relaxing. The constant rehashing of the past when such a vibrant and achievable future stood in front of me. Why did I feel comfortable sat in this place on my own? Why, now with it’s population of joy, do I not feel satisfied or content?

I was getting what I wanted, and far too easily to be complacent about.

The fact was Andrea needed help, and Sandra by my side should have made me feel strong, but the solitary I’d carved out for myself kept drawing me back. Did I deserve this? Would everything just work out? It seems so hard, when everything used to be so easy, so simple, so why risk it? Am I a coward? Can I be a saviour?

The drab and the melencholy were close friends, bed partners, lovers of sorts. It would be easy to bring them back, no questions asked or complications.

I can’t handle it. There’s too much. It’s not as clear cut and as straight forward as everyone says, or seems to act. What if I can’t save her? What if I can? Who is Jacob really, and why has he done this? Where do I find the energy to stand up against him? It just seems to righteous, to heroic, to different. To hard.

It wasn’t till I finished these thoughts that I realised I’d begun packing a bag. The small bedside lamp illuminated my only potential glimpse at happiness. Her tone and silken skin beckoned to me.

I zipped up my jacket, the bitter cold of the wintertime snap hitting me as I opened the door. I can’t handle it. I can’t be the person they see. I can’t.“

Written in about 5 minutes while on the loo… TMI maybe, but when it comes it comes…