(there is) no time like the present [n.h.]

part eight // 23:59

Aisling can hear the ten second countdown from her spot outside the pub, leaning against the cold brick wall, cooling her down from the inside out. Her winter coat is still clenched in her right hand, the heat of her anger keeping her warm against the evening breeze.

Her eyes are closed tight and she's trying her hardest not to cry. Aisling knows it's stupid—crying over her friends who didn't even spare her a second glance when she stormed out of the pub door. She doesn't want to blame them, because even though they can be selfish and unaware of her sadness, Aisling has let it slide for far too long. She's starting to think that her friends have grown accustomed to her knack of shrugging things off her shoulder, and she really only has herself to blame.

Aisling sighs as she hears the countdown end, the sounds of celebration reverberating through the thick brick. She's ringing in this new year alone, as it seems, and she wonders if she's part to blame for it.

She wonders why she's never spoken up when her friends overlook her feelings and say hurtful things about her. Aisling knows that they aren't intentional, and that her friends don't truly mean to hurt her feelings, but part of her wishes they would just understand.

She wonders why she's never been bold enough to go after the job she actually wanted. Why she stays working her shitty desk job day after day, losing interest in everything around her. Why she never acted on that job listing she received an email from in London, why she never even tried to move there in the first place.

She wonders why she's wasted so much time trying to find love in boys who can never offer her what she truly needs. Why even though Cormac was a sound lad, she knew he wasn't right for her, but the thought of leaving him was much more difficult than staying, so she chose the easier option.

Aisling wishes she was the type of person to speak up, to act on what she wants, to simply be better.

But she isn't.

So she sinks down to the cool pavement below her, her neck stretched upwards as her head rests on the brick wall. Her eyes are still closed shut, and she thinks that if she keeps them closed, she can squeeze out the girl she so badly wants to get rid of.

She thinks that when she opens her eyes again, she'll be a new person. The person she wants to be.