I go past the window of Christine’s café but I stay outside – I don’t have the balls to go in and explain, to tell her that my life was destroyed a long time ago, and I don’t think it can ever be put back together.
I don’t have the balls to look her in the eyes and tell her that I’m not ready, that I lied to her again. That I’ll never be the right man for her.
That maybe I’m not even a man.
I quicken my pace and head towards the car park to jump in my car and drive away once again from her, and from everything I thought I had pushed down – but instead, it’s been set alight in my heart. I drive away from everything I wanted to do, everything I gave up before I could even try.
I escape. And even though my legs are moving fast, even though I jump right into the car and pull away as quickly as I can, even though I’m pushing hard on the accelerator, I realise that I can’t escape from what scares me the most.
I can’t escape from how I feel about myself – something I never want to feel again.
As I drive through town and let myself into my apartment, closing the door behind me and throwing myself onto the sofa, I can feel the gaping hole in my chest widening, sucking in everything around me.
Sucking me in, too.
