8. Companion

Companions. Friends. Fools. Enemies. Lovers. We were all and one. Nothing and everything.

Mostly, however, I feel that we resembled friends. Perhaps. He would argue that we were companions. That would hurt me, considering I have shared the most exciting times of my life with him. We've travelled around and have experienced a range of things some of which have been dangerous whilst others have been just little holidays.

We've had our good times. And we've had our bad ones too.

And he says we're companions. That makes me scoff to no end. Lovers isn't very accurate, since neither of us felt that way about the other. Perhaps that word just came up because of his previous two companions.

Oh yes, my man's a player. Watch your hearts, because he will swoop in and steal them and you will - no joke - be left in the dust. No. Definitely. Him and I? We're friends. And we're so good as friends as well.

And then this happened. I appear to have forgotten different things; different memories. It's all but a dream. Who was my companion? Who was my friend? Who was my fool? Who was my enemy? And dear god, who was my lover?

The night that I suffered from a bout of amnesia, it was rumoured that the Earth had been moved through the heavens into a time rift; precise words of a fellow mate. Trust me on this, how the hell did she know that word? But it triggered something - and now there is something in my brain, in my very being of life that makes me want to get out there. Something is happening, something has happened, something is going to happen.

Dreams. That's all they were. Incoherent, insensible bloody dreams. They ruined my life; they were so real. I'd wake up, twisting under my sheet reaching out for an invisible stammering man. I'd reach out for a lovely man in a suit with a twinkle forever in his eyes. I reached out for the man that I yearned to hug.

They weren't there. They never would be. Why should they? All figments of my imagination, as easy as that.

I cried so much. I sobbed for the fictious people in my head who laughed with me, who wanted me around and who thought that I was special; brilliant even. I didn’t miss the sad looks that my grandad continuously gave me. Nor did I miss the exasperated looks that my beloved mother gave my grandad. And often, just every other day, they’d be whispering about something or rather behind my back. Easily assuming it was about me, I’d saunter in there and they’d freeze, eyes flickering cautiously to rest upon my entire frame. It was if they feared I was going to burn in the pits of hell if I knew information. They tried to keep me on house-arrest but that was quickly combatted. I’d gone to work, my mother urging me to turn left, and as I drove past – I saw a flash of brown billowing on the road.
I wonder what that was.

I'm sure you'll know what this is. Don't bother commenting, I know it's pathetically short. Actually it's about 520 words. I'm exhausted, see. And this time, it's not too nice of an exhaustion. I do want to write from this point of view so perhaps I'll come back to it in the near future and expand on the blimming thing.

Allons-y!