Beautiful and amazing post! You can feel the pain.
You are lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. It is half past seven on a Sunday evening but you don’t feel like doing anything. All you want to do is curl up into a ball and cry, but the tears don’t come. Your eyes are hot and itchy, but you tell yourself it’s hayfever and carry on staring at the ceiling, the cracks and the blu-tack pockmarks and the falling down posters which you know so well.
You keep thinking back to that time when you lay next to them, and they looked up at the same ceiling as you, and they made jokes about your decor, and you laughed. You can’t seem to shake it, how you felt lying next to them, the feel of skin against skin. You were both naked, but it didn’t seem to matter. You were unabashed and — you are pretty sure…
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