…I face the final curtain
And so I didn’t see her anymore.
I missed her so much, but it wasn’t something I could do anything about.
I couldn’t make things OK.
So I sat and felt sorry for myself. For what seemed like forever.
Drink myself to a stupor.
Not bath and be the person who everyone avoids at party’s.
Keep my CD’s in a muddle.
Feel sorry for myself.
Play football really badly.
Listen to songs by The Smiths.
So it was time for me to try and work out what I was going to do.
As the weeks rolled by, I thought about going on the undateables. I used to laugh at the weird people on there but one rainy Friday afternoon, whilst I was listening to people at work discuss their plans for the weekend, I decided it must be me as well. Nothing romantically ever worked for me.
As the summer came round, I had been going to the gym three times a week. I had something that resembled an athletic body. Not buff, but ok… for my age. I wasn’t one of those people who stared at themselves whilst working out. Blowing kisses and making hearts with their hands. I looked like a sweaty mess. but that was good. Sweating a load of heartache out is good therapy. My football was on the rise again and bit by bit I had rejoined the human race.
I didn’t really see ‘OUR’ friends anymore. It was too awkward.
I had to go and make a new life. Maybe this could be my ‘etch a sketch’ moment. My life had reset and the slate wiped clean.
All I could think of was those phrases people roll out at times like this – ‘You have the rest of your life ahead of you’ or ‘plenty more fish in the sea.’
But fishing is shit! Surely there must be more than that.
And I might have the rest of my life ahead of me and it might be a long life, but it will seen a lot longer on my own.