Like a tree losing its leaves. I forget even the thing I was thinking.

It's as if a child with a brush and too much enthusiasm has been set free with a tin of black paint inside me.

Don't pretend to care. I don't need you as an anesthetic.

Adam strokes my head, my face, he kisses my tears. We are blessed. Let them all go. The sound of a bird flying low across the garden. Then nothing. Nothing. A cloud passes. Nothing again. Light falls through the window, falls onto me, into me. Moments. All gathering towards this one.

That slow smile again. I love that smile! DId I think he was ugly just now? No, his face is transformed.

How late is it? How long have we been sitting here? I look at my watch – three thirty and the day is almost ending. It’s October. All those kids recently returned to classrooms with new bags and pencil cases will be looking forward to half term already. How quickly it goes. Halloween soon, then firework night. Christmas. Spring. Easter. Then there’s my birthday in May. I’ll be seventeen. How long can I stave it off? I don’t know. All I know is that I have two choices – stay wrapped in blankets and get on with dying, or get the list back together and get on with living.

I've always wanted to be a cat. Warm and domesticated when you want to be, wild when you don't.