August 18, 2016

they are just knickers..


Burn the lucky number 7s, burn the ones the roses and the pale blue elastic, burn this jumper, burn all the jammies..

Not a surprise. Attempting to give a timeline of Pablo's life and traumas didn't fit into an hour. Didn't feel to good after. Went for a mocha and a bacon roll felt like the most self caring thing to do. We were in a mess, kept looking for your car when we cant remember what your car looks like. Kept getting the image of a hatchback of some kind and colour driving away from us and feeling bad but couldnt work out any more. Fair few dry sobs, particularly when waiting for the bus and getting on it.

We feel like we are done with wondering about who Pabs biological father is. An awful lot of questions that we have been bouncing of amnesiac walls have landed. Fuck.

Us and our stupid wee strong girl fantasies, good bless them. They knew everything you were going to say to us was going to be an absolute kicking when already down so they kept you wordless for as long as possible. The night they gave in and told us was one of the nights in the hospital that was particularly eventful. We had no option but to go back to the amnesia when you were still there and still not changing any of your plans. No wonder we went deaf.

What a mess.
At least the lad will no longer trigger us as much now that we know. What about the rest? All the rest.