The One That Got Away

Untitled Part 1

It had been six months since I ha come out of the psychiatric hospital, a year since I'd seen you. Music played in my ears, sending the sweet melodythrough my body making it tingle with emotion at the words it sang, when the bus reached a stop, I wasn't concentrating, I wasn't prepared, but something caught my eye, no not something, someone. You. There you were, getting onto my bus, but you were barely recognisabe. You wore death on your skin that almost seemed translucent and stretched so tight against your bones. It's gotten to you, you let it get to you, you always told me it would but I never imagined you to get like that. How can something so drastic happen in just a year, such a short amount of time. Your eyes were drained of any light and they reflected the tiredness of many sleepless nights, what was keeping you awake? What made it so hard for you to sleep? Your hair was brown now, I remembered how you loved to dye it, it suited you, or it would have if it didn't look so frail as though it were about to snap off, but still beautiful none the less. You were wearing some kind of work polo shirt, I managed o catch sight of a logo of a restaurant in Kenilworth, I was proud, you were getting somewhere, which was a lot more than I was doing. Eighteen years old and still no job. But the polo shirt hung off your skeletal frame which only emphasised how tiny you had become and your jeans were baggy and worn out, the only thing that seemed to fit you were your shoes however odd they looked comapred to your miniscule legs. The moment seemed to hang in the air all around us, I wanted to reach out and grab you and hold you close to me. But you weren't the girl I had met, the girl full of hope and enthusiasm and dreams and determination that seemed to fuel you through everything, no matter how unaware of it you were. But now, now you were frail, broken and in every sense of the word, falling apart.