j'suis pas bien dans ma tête, maman

And here it is, you’re all alone, once again. Sitting in the shower, arm on your knees. Water’s falling on your head. Your trembling fingers constantly open and close. Eyes in the vagueness. Your skin is red of being rubbed too much. Tried to take her smell of. Vainly. And you feel like you’ve been cut in two, know she took the best part away from you. Maybe that’s why you never fall in love before. You already knew.

And then there’s him, waiting on the other side of the door. He followed you after the wedding, even though you told him to piss off. Several times. Guess he could see your sadness through your bitchy face. You’re not that alone, are you ? You just wish you were, so you cloud pity yourself. Pathetic.

You sigh.

Tired of sobbing. It reminds you of some things you’d rather forget. Your head hurts already. You slowly stand up. One step after another. Catch a towel to hide your naked body. Push the door. Grumble. He’s blocking the way. « Just piss off ! »

© charney

Your head settle on the door. Sigh. It’s been a tough day. At least you know who she loves. ‘Cause she sure still does, else she wouldn’t be crying in the shower. You tried to talk to her, she just told you to piss off. You didn’t. What a thug you are. You hope knowing you’re here will make her feel better. Even though she won’t tell you. She’s a cold hearted badass, right ? Right.

She finally turns down the water, and a few seconds later, she’s pushing the door, groaning ‘cause you’re blocking the way. « Yeah, nah, I don’t think so. » You move a little so she can get out of the bathroom. Her face is a mess, and so is her heart. « Come on sweetie, you have makeup all over your face, » you blow. You take a tissue out of your pocket and softly wipe the kohl’s rests. Have a little smile. « Here, you’re not a panda anymore. »

© charney

You stare at him, catch his hand. « Stop fucking acting like I’m a fucking kid, for god’s sake ! » you yell. « I ain’t your daughter, got it ? Treat me like the fucking grown-up I am ! » You let him alone with his hand, rush out of the bathroom. Grab a negligee, put it on while walking to your bed, leave your towel on the floor. You mechanically rub your eyes, hide under your blankets, pillow tighten to your heart. Seems like you’re acting like a child, not for you. You just don’t know how to do. What to do. Maybe he’ll know. You’re way to fucking dependent on him.

© charney