Windows

How about those days when you don't open your mouth? You can't even drag up a smile to offer the shopkeeper and you feel a gripping unease when you walk down the street - a horrible fear in your belly that someone might notice you are there. Those days are the worst. They're not so frequent lately, but they are there - every now and then.

It's longing really. It's a deep seated desire to belong somewhere, to feel needed, or useful. I most definitely am neither needed or useful. I take up space, and pay for the privilege.

It's a hard pill to swallow - I came to realise that I am probably not the victim in my failed relationships. Not that there has to be a hero. But I am probably more culpable that the others. Let's examine that for a moment. Sat on the windowsill looking out onto the warm glows of houses filled with happy families. I wonder if they are happy, and if they are, I wonder how they got that way.

Regret - that old demon - stalks the room. It's hard to believe the shit that went on here. The romance. It wasn't romance. It was close, but no cigar.

I don't think she'd have any breath left, the way she went on.

I probably deserve the nagging. There's no way I don't annoy people. Maybe it's my teeth. They're a little less than white. I don't keep myself in as good a condition as I should. Yes, that's it. Physical unattractiveness, that is why they leave. Mental unattractiveness? I am overly contrary they say. Because I do not agree with most people, that makes me contrary. I hate Twilight, and Coldplay. That makes me contrary.

Some things are just shit.

Get over it.

You need to move on, Rob.

Get over it.

I have moved onwards, always onwards - but not entirely upward. Probably downward - hurtling towards some great chasm.

It's dark down there, and there are no people.

Enough.