Poseidon

Pénde

The wind whips its barbs across my arms, tangling itself through my hair. The mug in my hand burns, the steam swiftly swirling skyward warming my face, contrasting the coolness around me. Cars crawl below me, weaving their way through the streets of Sydney as the waves crash on the shore. My apartment was one of the few with a balcony and sea view, I was lucky in that sense. The sea surprisingly still calms me, its crescendo of sound washing over me, the salt in the air winding its way around me soothing my fraying nerves. It calls to me, whispering to me to come to it, its beckoning fingers sending tendrils to wrap around my senses and drag me in.

At this thought I quickly turn on my heel and rush back into the apartment and occupy my mind with the task of unpacking. My clothes, still in their suitcases, lay around me, waiting patiently to be unpacked. My furniture, or what I decided to bring, would be arriving tomorrow, even though the apartment is already nearly furnished one of the requirements was your own bedroom furnishings. When I asked the landlady about this she said that she thought it would allow the person to add a personal touch to their own room. I ordered bedroom furniture to arrive because the ones at my apartment back in Adelaide hold to many memories, memories that I need to live without.

I begin to unpack, however my eyes become blurred with unshed tears. No no no, not again, please not again. "Happy thoughts," I tell myself, "think happy thoughts." But all my happy thoughts surround one boy, one boy that-nope not going there. "I shall not cry. I shall get over this. I shall get over this. I will get over this. It may take a week, a month, a year, but I will get over this." Tears are rolling down my face at this point so I decide to call it a night and just sleep.