15th March
Pete (that sounds weird),
I'm a little more sober today. Hope I can write coherently as well. I figured I'd tell you more about the stuff that's happened. So…where to begin?
I'll begin with Tifa. She was the only light in my life.
No, that's a lie. Our relationship was crap; I just told everyone that it was great so many times it's engrained on my brain. She couldn't handle me at first, with me just writing all the time and doing nothing because I just wanted to think. She screwed around behind my back, even when I gave her everything she ever wanted. And when I got famous – she crawled back. Of course. And for some reason I let her.
I know now that for some fucked up reason I loved her. It's excusable, I guess – when she wasn't screaming at me she was so beautiful, thoughtful…Angelic. An angel with a dirty face, I suppose.
It didn't help that Rufus died around this time. He was my brother – sure, we never talked, mainly because I was a big success. He'd worked all his life, you see – university, qualifications, all that stuff that I never bothered with. And it got him nowhere. In fact, all it got him was alcohol poisoning and a nice funeral. Yeah, I guess I should be sadder about it. I am – it's just we never really saw eye to eye. He was never really my brother, in a way, he moved away to boarding school when I was 7. Didn't help that he was one of Tifa's little friends either.
Anyway – I promised I'd move on. That's my old life. I start again today!
So, what happened today? I got up, showered, ate, went outside and lay on the grass. Bang – inspiration – the grinning mug of that bishie next door appeared hovering over me. Cold as ice, I ignored – then he started talking, all like 'more interesting things than clouds round here, you know…' I just rolled away and stood up. Ended up just looking at each other and I felt like a chat. So, I asked him what kind of things and he just winked at me and said 'I'll show you another time' and he pranced off back to his own house. Weirdo.
Yeah. Can't say I'm getting much in the way of writing motivation around here. It's so pretty…and boring. They were really scraping the barrel for personalities in this town – that guy next door, some woman down the street with more cats than sense…I'll tell you another time about the others. Still. Only my second day, right? Things'll get better.
My sentence – on Tifa. To be read with as much bitterness in voice as possible.
Beloved betrayal. Saccarin sentiments. Silicon screams of a name that meant no more than money for luxury. Founded on lies, constructed on heartbreak. I won't forgive.
Sounds like poetry, huh Pete? Alliteration. Things'll get better my ass.
C.