ʜ ᴇ ᴏ ʟ s ᴛ ᴏ ʀ

The bus was due to leave... any moment now. It was a miserable morning; the horizon dull and the heavens open - howling, fierce and wildly shrieking, a mad beast on the rampage above the city of grey. The constant roar of thunder loomed over head; flashes of hot, white lightning streaked across the darkened skies in irregular frenzies.

The rain fell heavily, the sound like the beating of a mighty drum on the young man’s suitcase; he held it above his head to shield his hair and suit. It grew louder and louder, everything around him so harsh and deafening, he could barely hear himself think. The stale, bitter aftertaste of coffee lingered on his lips from the rushed breakfast. He longed to be back in his homey kitchen - breathing in the warm, sweet aroma of honey and jam; the steam from the kettle slowly rising - the atmosphere growing hot and humid and comforting...

He dragged himself from his thoughts, realising the bus was about to pull away. Letting out a muffled yell, the young man bolted after the vehicle. He raised a drenched fist and began to rap and bang madly at the cold, smooth metal – bawling at the driver to stop.

It's been hard day yesterday. Bad news got worse. My Godfather's Mother passed away sometime on sunday and I found yesterday - the anniversary of my Godfather's death. More crying. Always crying. Should I stay for the funeral? I feel like I should - but I don't think I could cope with another funeral. Especially not another cremation. I can't do that again. It's just too much.

Watched Disco Pigs. There's something beautiful in madness. I think. I can understand, yet don't have a single fucking clue at the same. Oh, why didn't you get me that shrink when you offered? Maybe I could be a little bit more fucking normal. That would be fantastic.

Where's my Pig? I want my Pig.

Enough. I guess I'll have to wait. Or die a virgin/spinster/loser. Whatever comes first.