The train ride home feels like forever. The same familiar faces in my carriage. One who works a floor below me and one who lives a street away. Smiles are usually exchanged but never words. Guard up, head down.

I was never any good in social situations. Never any good at attracting anyone with my awkward looking body, broken brain and stupid lazy eye.

Too used to sitting on the train by myself. Too used to watching my girlfriends run off with the guys I’ve had crushes on. Too used to being the rough as guts loud tomboy that wears hoodies and Chuck Ts over heels and leggings.

Found a muse, lost a muse, bollocksed up a four and a half year friendship, visited someone who used me as a punching bag and asked him to “do it again”, wiped away the tears, cleaned up the cuts, gritted my teeth, made a plan and here it all unfurls.

I’m tired, weak and wish there was a glimmer of hope or a sliver of sunshine to make it all better. This isn’t about “growing the fuck up” or acceptance. This is all about someone so broken that she can’t go on.

….to be continued