It wasn’t until we moved this weekend that I realised that I needed to get away. It feels like I’ve cut the cord to my old life and now I am free. Free to start afresh where there are no memories of my old life, in my old suburb.
What amazes me is this connection with my body. When I was dieting, I tried so hard to ignore the biological impulse of hunger that I blocked everything else out.
One single kiss and now Kristen Stewart is branded a cheat, her reputation tarnished forever. I know how she feels. It all started with a kiss for me as well …
Four months and one day after I met Duckfish we moved in together. It wasn’t my idea. In fact, I was fiercely defending my decision to stay in the tiny one bedroom flat that was all my own.
It’s a curious kind of survivors’ guilt. Not the kind that makes me feel guilty for still being alive when someone else is dead, but the kind that makes me feel bad for not feeling bad.
I have never been pregnant, never had morning sickness, never breastfed and never held my own baby. There is no one on this earth who has my genetic legacy.
Part of me realises that being in love means that my heart will get broken one day. We’ll either break up or one of us will die leaving the other behind. It’s a pain waiting for me somewhere off in the future.