A family dinner, not quite formal but not casual enough to say fuck and god damn at the table. A girl, tired, stressed... Dropped home by the busy mother and left to figure out her head on her own. What she would find in there, she didn't know. Two simple tasks and 4 hours to complete them in: Make a fucking apple cake and ring the man she's been dying to talk too all day. Simple enough right?

DISTRACTION.

Half a cake made and the phone sitting beside me. Open door, slammed closed. I NEED THE OVEN I NEED THE OVEN, confrontational twitches and not at the best of times... times... what is the time? PANIC PANIC PANIC. The family arrives soon but she is alive enough to feel the need for her nicotine. Just fifteen minutes would be all she needed to get the tears out of her system, fight them back to the depths of whence they came. No crying was allowed. It might take the spot light off... her...
One look in the mirror and she new that her face looked ugly with the smudges of a big night and guilt. That would have to be fixed, clean dress, nice smell, make up... fix this mess she made. Dog starts barking- FUCK FUCK FUCK too late, no phone call... no cigarette.

Family equalling alienation. An old soul not realising just how badly his words are hurting her, as she tries with all her best effort to remain sweet and like the image her name always gave her. Jobless but not pointless! Selfless and trying hard to be behaved, civil, social.
"You owe it to your parents... Getting yourself a respectable career with a job that they can be proud of. When will you study? What will you do?" and once again she pulled out that old dusty black wool she thought she may never adorn again, and felt disgust as she pulled her arms through the sleeves.
She is once again, the fuck up. Once again, that one kid that never quite fit the bill or made the grade... Trying to be interested but so aware of the time. Tick tick tick tick. Soon he would be sleeping sweet dreams, soon she would have lost her chance.

AND THEY STAND! After what seemed like an eternity, they went on their way. The guilty feeling of wanting them to leave was being crushed in her gut by the excitement of that phone call and cigarette. Ring. ring. ring. Ring. ring. ring. Nothing. No answer. ANGRY ANGRY ANGRY ANGRY. She needed that fucking phone call. She needed to hear his sweet voice. She was hurting. She wanted to show him her day, and help reason with him the challenges they faced.

And now, she sits, she contemplates what it means to have someone so close to her-- that the very simple fact that he is peacefully asleep and calm and neutrally happy could have the effect she is feeling now. A mix of the pain that she knows her problems that tower over her will not be shifted, that she faces it alone, that she needs to keep trying, that she needs to be held but with no one to hold her, that she needs to feel and know love in this moment of a guilty conscience and total rejection.

... And all with the bad taste of knowing in her heart that none of this is his fault. That none of this is accountable by him, and that she simply ran out of time, as he ran out of time. Time, that was supposed to be on her side, when at this exact moment in that time- nothing is on her side. THIS is how i FEEL. Not concrete, not cement; so don't let it make you feel heavy. Just know that when I have no other way to get out of the rip-tide, I have to immortalize into the ether of the net. All I wanted, all I needed was to just hear that liquid heaven wash over me one last time... for someone to just listen to what i had to say without being disappointed or disinterested like the rest of this family...

im sorry i didnt catch you in time... and now were both falling through the holes together.