It was the dead of the night, and Maria was dead to the world. Her legs sunk into the mattress, the weight lifted away, her mind finally tranquil when the first pebble hit her bedroom window. The cul-de-sac she lived on was quiet; a safe space away from the city, the throng of trees a shelter from the concrete jungle that her days played out in.
The first time I fell in love, I thought it would be forever. We had kids names planned and I had our futures mapped out in my mind. He was the first man to meet my parents – in all my twenties so far, I haven’t met another man worthy of the honour. But it became unhealthy – or maybe it always was, and I just never saw it – we loved each other obsessively, aggressively and more dangerously with every day that passed.
I wish I wasn’t an anxiety ridden introvert – I’d host a monthly salon, where all my favourite creative voices from the internet and beyond could have a meeting of minds. We’d change the world if we shed the doubt that mundane, relentless adulthood has a way of beating into us. The benefit of expanding your emotional and creative intelligence has become so underrated in a world of capitalism and rushing to work and scrolling through an endless sea of digital nonsense and never having time for anything because we’re all oh-so-busy competing to be the most productive – but what are we doing it all for?
You say you notice everything about me
You laugh and say I walk like I’m ice skating
Feet bounding ahead in a circular motion
As if that makes it easier to keep moving forward