#spilled in prose

I can remember thinking ‘this place doesn’t feel like a home.’ The lobby of the building was barren except for a sleepy security guard who didn’t even acknowledge the slam of the door as it shut behind us and I noticed that despite the space’s expansiveness, there wasn’t any furniture. No uncomfortable sofas or coffee-stained end tables typical for most lobbies belonging to apartment buildings. Not so much as a fake plant in sight. The lighting in the corridors and the strange-smelling lift was so harsh and unforgiving on the eyes that I felt like a fly lying dead in one of those Eazyzap bug traps, still twitching from the shock of the electricity. I was almost sober by the time we got up to their apartment so when I was offered a shot of vodka I accepted it like a dehydrated dog might accept water from a puddle during a walk. It singed my throat on the way down and I had to fight not to retch from the aftertaste. 

I had met these people not even two hours before at a bar; my friends already knew them but I was a neophyte, a stranger to their many charms: Casey’s overbearing presence that infuriated me even more than the sound of his voice, so smooth that I couldn’t help but be entranced by it despite every part of me screaming that it was all a lie. Matthew’s scruffy long hair and wire frame glasses that reminded me of a book character I’d fallen in love with more times than I could even count, his shit-eating grin that made you feel like you were in on some private joke of his. Fraser’s backwards ball cap (because that’s always been a weak spot of mine) and a sadness so whole within him that I could feel it from the other side of the room, a sadness so whole that I could hear it through his contagious laugh.

Their apartment was on the top floor of the block - an alien space that felt more like being stuck in a hidden pocket of time - and one side of the kitchen was all windows that offered us a panoramic view of the London skyline. The alcohol and whatever we had smoked on the way over had gone straight to my head and staring at the view felt more like staring into a giant snow globe I’d found in one of those shitty gift shops in Leicester Square. My head was spinning in a good way and everything had this undeniable realness to it, like someone had taken a pen and given everything a bold outline. Even the floor had a life of its own. I had to sit down. I perched next to Matthew. We gazed out of the window, pointed out Tower Bridge and the London Eye and he gave me a gummy worm that wasn’t just a gummy worm. It tasted like TV static and made the glands in the side of my neck tingle and just by looking at him I knew that our souls were one in the same. 

We had one of those conversations that you can only have while intoxicated, the kind where you discuss parallel universes, protagonist theory and mental illness. Fraser told me that he did cocaine because he was addicted to it. Matthew replied matter-of-factly that he did cocaine to feel like a rockstar, and that pretty much sums up humans, don’t you think? We do things to feel like something else or just anything at all. 

That’s why I was there. Because it felt like something. 

I want to write about the things and feelings I felt too guilty to write about before. The times I felt broken, the times I felt I didn’t get what I deserved. But I didn’t want to admit it. Not to myself, not to anyone else. It’s okay to admit people aren’t perfect…it’s okay to let them go. I knew, if I admitted all these things, I’d have to face reality. That the people I love and adore, the reality of who they are is not equal to my opinion of them. I didn’t want to say that before, I wouldn’t even let myself think it. But I want to grow and mature, thrive, become the person I want to be. And I can’t do that if I can’t even be honest with myself.

MK Ireland #274 : guilty thoughts

I watched the sun rise

saw the light hit your eyes

and smiled at your beauty

I saw you stumble out of bed

so many thoughts in your head

and go about your day

I watched you walk back in

your hand on my chin

and you kissed me hello

I saw the moon shine

more reflection in your eyes

I smiled, this is home.

MK Ireland #273 : untitled 2

And I stood in the tall grass

that lined the beach

looking at the depth before me

The expanse of ocean

and its movement

I watched the waves meet the shore

with force

I wondered what it meant to be so sure of yourself

I wondered what it meant to be vulnerable

to let others see my fury

my sorrow

and my power

and to not be afraid they would leave me

I wondered what it meant to be secure

I’d never known that feeling

MK Ireland #272 : untitled

“Have you ever been in love before?”

“Yeah…with you.”

MK Ireland #265 : conversations part one

“I just- I love you so much, I don’t even know how to say it.”

“I know. I do too.”

MK Ireland #264 : a nameless night together

One day I looked over at you and just knew you were the person I wanted to look at the rest of my life.

MK Ireland #263 : “it’s a feeling, you just…know”