I had to get outside. Breathe in that fresh air, breathe out the boil before I combust.
Stomping down the lane and underneath the towering trees. Over the river and through the crowded hedgerows. Fighting back the tears before I release. I release it all out. The sun pokes out a little, warming my already hot flushed mottled damp face. The coat feels stupid now but I stormed out before I could think about changing my clothes.
A butterfly hurries past. Lands on a nettle for a millisecond before flitting off somewhere else.
A blue dragonfly whizzes by and lands elegantly on the long wild grass. How beautiful this dragonfly is.
I start to notice the overgrown greenery around me. I haven't been here since Wintertime, when the ground and twigs were covered in icy white snow.
No one walks past with their dog. No one jogs past me. No one is here but me.
And for once all I wanted was someone to be here. So I didn't have to feel this alone.
But I am alone. It seems like all I ever feel lately is alone. I surround myself with souls but still feel it. I choose to feel it.
But today, right now, I don't want to feel it.
A welcomed breeze brushes past, disturbing my hair, sticking to my damp cheeks. I breathe it in, so deep I can taste it, my chest rising high and slowly releasing it with some of the pain, the anger, the guilt.
Sundays like these. Let's hope it's the last of them.
I long for the slow contented ones that once were, long long ago.
