chris east

It’s like chewing on broken glass. Talking to her is just like chewing jagged little bits of broken glass, swallowing them, and letting your stomach bleed and bleed until you shit out blood and eventually die painfully. “I just want you to know, you’re the best and I want us to be friends forever.” Fuck. I should have finished this months ago. All I have in my head right now is images of her hanging upside down by her ankles, dangling from the ceiling of a pedestrian underpass with hungry dogs snapping at her face and the occasional tooth catching her cheek. She is breaking up with me and that is ok. I just wish she would hurry up with it. I have killed this girl so many times in my sleep. I even got close in real life once, when she was in bed asleep and I was poised above her head with a pillow and hands trembling but I talked myself out of it. Blah blah blah blah. She just said something about “all the great times we shared together” and I taste an amount of sick at the back of my throat. That taste has been almost constant throughout our relationship. “Yeah, it has meant a lot to me too.”

Chris East
Knut Hamsun