IB1
IN THE BACK OF MY MIND
I went straight to the bar. To bury my pain or whatever it is you want to call it. I just needed
to escape. I needed a drink. When the bartender asked if I wanted the regular, my stomach
flipped. I did not want the regular single malt scotch. The regular single malt scotch
reminded me of you. And that was the last thing I needed, although there was not another
thought on my mind.
You hated vodka. So I ordered vodka shots.
‘Am I trying to trick my brain? Is it actually working?’
You left. You chose her. And it’s okay, it really is, I get it. Except I’m not, okay. Not even close.
I look around the huddled bar. In terms of men who I could drown my sorrows with, I’m
spoilt for choice. Except I’m not, looking at their eyes doesn't make it impossible for me to
breathe. I feel hemmed.
‘Who cares?’, I think. So I accept a drink from a stranger.
As he talks to me I remember how we met, at this exact bar, exactly a year ago, in the exact
same way. As he touches my thigh I recall how you said things, you said things and you
didn’t mean them. Or you did. You just don’t anymore, because you said forever and I can’t
seem to find you anywhere. He then moves a strand of my hair behind my ear and I think
about the first time I met your mom and how she told me we were the perfect match while
you were in the kitchen. As he caresses my cheek I think about all the times we watched the
sunset together, and how we stayed up to see it rise, just for the sake of it.
You are still here, in the back of my mind.
The drink is staring at me. Just like you did. Not a year ago, not six months ago, but
yesterday, when everything I thought I knew just shifted. Not like you admire me, but like
you pity me.
It’s recent. Your scent still lingers on me.
The golden hair of the man in front of me it’s the opposite from yours, somehow I can only
think of the countless times you used my conditioner because you said its aroma reminded
you of our sleepovers. His blue eyes are staring at me with lust and desire, however, they
don’t stand a chance with your brown loving eyes, that managed to make me feel safe.
A freezing feeling goes down my spine when the words ‘We need to talk’ that I hear behind
me remind me too much of the brown loving eyes, the curly brunette hair, the sunsets and
IN THE BACK OF MY MIND
I went straight to the bar. To bury my pain or whatever it is you want to call it. I just needed
to escape. I needed a drink. When the bartender asked if I wanted the regular, my stomach
flipped. I did not want the regular single malt scotch. The regular single malt scotch
reminded me of you. And that was the last thing I needed, although there was not another
thought on my mind.
You hated vodka. So I ordered vodka shots.
‘Am I trying to trick my brain? Is it actually working?’
You left. You chose her. And it’s okay, it really is, I get it. Except I’m not, okay. Not even close.
I look around the huddled bar. In terms of men who I could drown my sorrows with, I’m
spoilt for choice. Except I’m not, looking at their eyes doesn't make it impossible for me to
breathe. I feel hemmed.
‘Who cares?’, I think. So I accept a drink from a stranger.
As he talks to me I remember how we met, at this exact bar, exactly a year ago, in the exact
same way. As he touches my thigh I recall how you said things, you said things and you
didn’t mean them. Or you did. You just don’t anymore, because you said forever and I can’t
seem to find you anywhere. He then moves a strand of my hair behind my ear and I think
about the first time I met your mom and how she told me we were the perfect match while
you were in the kitchen. As he caresses my cheek I think about all the times we watched the
sunset together, and how we stayed up to see it rise, just for the sake of it.
You are still here, in the back of my mind.
The drink is staring at me. Just like you did. Not a year ago, not six months ago, but
yesterday, when everything I thought I knew just shifted. Not like you admire me, but like
you pity me.
It’s recent. Your scent still lingers on me.
The golden hair of the man in front of me it’s the opposite from yours, somehow I can only
think of the countless times you used my conditioner because you said its aroma reminded
you of our sleepovers. His blue eyes are staring at me with lust and desire, however, they
don’t stand a chance with your brown loving eyes, that managed to make me feel safe.
A freezing feeling goes down my spine when the words ‘We need to talk’ that I hear behind
me remind me too much of the brown loving eyes, the curly brunette hair, the sunsets and
