I want to go to bead. Let me. I don't want to talk anymore. I just want to go to bead. Just let me, I am ready. I have always been ready. But been waiting for you to get up and get out. Just let me go to bead. And I won't argue with you anymore. I promise.

I am not crying. Really, I am not crying. These are not tears coming out of my eyes. I am really not crying. So used to crying mutely I can now do it on demand. As a game. No need to worry about acting skills or breathing techniques. Very simple and easy. Practice makes perfect.

Fighting has now become a habit. Now the fighting is a habit. Fighting is now a habit. Nothing to fight about. Just got used to it. It has to happen twice a day, every other day, and three times on Sunday. 

I am not very good of maths, but I can tell that that’s a lot of fighting. I feel so lucky though, to have someone to fight with. Imagine all these other, lonely people, who do they fight with? 

is your plate full at the moment? does your water taste like shit? is your plate full of shit? full of random shit swimming in your plate? does your water exude a smell of shit? how many shit is in your plate at the moment? can you count? can you actually count?

we will keep you for a while until we are ready to get rid of you. just evaluate your options. you may have a bonus next year, so consider staying. be a man and make a clean break. let's take the risk together.

Where is the thermometer, all things missing, where is the thermometer? All things gone, well and truly gone and missing. Did we ever actually have a thermometer? An electronic one, perhaps and yes but not a manual, not the kind you stick in your arse and fart and pray. Where is the thermometer, I am burning. So, this is why I will never break up again. No thermometer and I am burning.

I suppose you know that by now, how heavy the logs are. And how hard to cut them with with no soar. They are long enough to put in the fireplace as long as you can get the right angle. Otherwise they will go inside your mouth and eye and nostril. You need a soar. You know that. But no soar to be seen. It is well gone now. Bring in the logs, the long long logs and stick them up your nose. They will be warm at first then start burning. Then burn your skin for good. Unless of course you have a soar.

I am coming. I am coming. Wait up. Or do not wait. I cannot warm up my hands anymore, there is no time. I am coming. Wait up. No noise from the cutlery please, no noise at all. No cutlery noise please, no crockery sound. All quite now please, just keep quite. Walk softly on your toes, touch the switch with the tip of the finger, remove the towel with one hand and pretend you are washing. The water makes noise too, remember. And when your armpits will smell and you won't be able to stand it anymore, just pretend you press the soap dispenser, no noise, and that you rub in on your skin, no noise, and that the tap is dribbling, no noise at all, and that is it, all washed and ready to go.

So you try to kiss me and there is no tongue but too much saliva, I cannot swallow. I try to swallow but I cannot. There is a vacuum in between our mouths, a vacuum that can never be filled. Although our mouths are touching and I try to swallow there is an endless vacuum and no tongues. Or too small tongues. Or no tongues. Then, I realise. I want nothing tainted anymore in my life. Nothing tainted. All should be pure and white. No past, no presence, no baggage. Especially no baggage. Hand or checked in, it doesn't matter. Neither is good for me. Only pure and white. So, no years on top or under, no years left, no years to wait. No years at all. I cannot wait for any number of years to see what you decide or what will happen. And you never took an interest in my blog in any case. So, pure and white, no tainted stuff, not anymore. No counting down till I can be pregnant or counting up, till you can be pregnant, or counting sideways. No coming to terms with your body, no coming to terms with anything. Still pure and white, like my white fluffy carpet and the pile of sheets you left behind. And never sleep with beardless people.

Κατέβα. Κατέβα. Κατέβα σου λέω. Πιο κάτω. Μα δε σε φτάνω. Πέταξέ μου κάτι τουλάχιστον. Κάτι δικό σου. Να το έχω όταν θα είμαι στο νησί. Κάτι ήθελα να σου γράψω μα το ξέχασα. Α, ναι. Θυμάσαι που σού'χα πει ότι θα σ'ακολουθήσω παντού, όπου κι αν πας, κι ότι θα παρατήσω τη δουλειά μου και θα'ρθω μαζι σου, κι ας μην έχω δουλειά, κι ας μην ξέρω να πλένω τα πιάτα έτσι όπως τα θέλεις, κι ας μη με φιλάς κάθε πρωί όταν ξυπνάς παρά μόνο όταν σε ξυπνά η γάτα, κι ας μην ξέρω να φτιάχνω το πληντήριο, ή να φωνάξω κάποιον να φτιάξει το πλυντήριο ή τελος πάντων να δηλώσω εξαφάνιση πλυντηρίου, κι ας μην έχω telephone manners καθόλου, κι ας μη με θέλεις, κι ας μη μ'αγαπάς, κι ας το κάνεις ψέμματα ότι μ'αγαπάς, γιατί σ'αρεσει το σπίτι μου κι η παρέα της γατας, και το τραπέζι του κήπου, κι έχεις βολευτεί για τα καλά, κι ας μη με παίρνεις στο τηλεφωνο ή στο σκάιπ, κι ας μη χαμογελάς όταν με βλέπεις να γυρνώ από υπερατλαντικό ταξίδι, κι ας μη με προσέχεις που αλλάζω τα μαλλιά μου και φοράω φούστα μίνι, παρά μόνο όταν νομίζεις ότι δεν είμ'εγώ, κι ας αναστενάζεις συνέχεια, κι ας παραπονιέσαι οτι σ'ενοχλεί ο δικός μου αναστεναγμός, κι ας έχεις μεγάλο πουλί, τόσο που καμιά φορά δε χωράει, κι ας μη μου κάνεις νάζια ή κόλπα, ή τίποτα απ'όλ'αυτά. Θυμάσαι τότε που σού'χα πει ότι θα σ'ακολουθήσω παντού, όπου κι αν πας? Το εννοούσα.