Wednesday, 22 April 2015

This Bitch Couldn't Even Meet Me A Quarter Of The Way

When I typed Yeovil into the sat nav I felt strangely hopeful. By the time I'd reached Okehampton, and nearly crashed a dozen times desperately checking my mobile, I felt fucking woeful. I parked the car and trudged through the ruins of the castle, feeling like a complete and utter arsehole. We should have been laughing together in Tintinhull Gardens. We should have been strolling hand in hand through Yeovil Scarplands. Instead, I'm dragging myself through these remains, wondering when exactly they became such a fitting metaphor for my pain, whilst you're off somewhere playing your silly games.


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