Sometime

I’m running, my feet are wet but my shoes are dry, my shirt could be fifty miles from here for all I know…Where am I? I need to stop for a second… No houses, no cars, no road, no one… What am I doing in a field?

SOME TIME LATER...

A house; all wooden and very tall, looks crooked from where I’m standing, but it’s dark so I may be wrong. Couldn’t really call it a farm for it has no animals, no machinery, just four, small, boarded windows. An oak door and a swing lowered from the tree just opposite. I can feel my skin starting to jump because of the cold, I look at myself; arms are covered in little bumps as if even my hairs are hiding underneath my skin, lost my belt but kept my shoes and jeans, has someone stripped me? But why would they also take my socks and shoe laces?

SOME TIME LATER...

Ok… there is no way into this place, my body is uncontrollably shaking, I’m an official vibrating human but I don’t care. I don’t care? …You’re sitting outside a deserted house with just your shoes and jeans you stupid fuc SHUT UP! Get your head together, I don’t know why I always… I see a car… I think im kneeling in something, doesn’t matter now, I retreat further behind the big oak tree to be subdued in the darkness. Out of the car comes a man, quite tall but thin as a shadow… at least he has clothes… He is searching underneath the rugged front door mat, he seems to be looking for something… He has retrieved a key. Why didn’t I think of a key under the mat? …I told you… Middle of a field, no idea why and barely any clothes, worst thing that can happen is… who knows. I knock on the door, no answer, but who needs an answer when the door creeps open straight away?
“Hello Michael… Aren’t you missing something?” asked the tall man ahead of me. …Haha, don’t trust him, but then again I’m talking to a fool… Go away… How does he know my name? “I’m not talking to you, it’s obvious that YOU are missing something, I’m talking to Michael!”

…wake up dog…
…listen…you better listen…

That was one dream to remember, now the biggest decision of every waking day… Can I be arsed to get out of bed… If I get out of bed now then people may be awake and that involves talking, but if I don’t then they will think I am dead. Let a cigarette do the talking… I think to myself every morning, what would be the point in my awakening? If I was to talk to someone is it going to make any difference to anyone? …you would make no difference, you would not be known… You are exactly the reason why I am still here my friend and I to you… Time for breakfast… I brush my teeth exactly the same way every morning, twice over the top, once over the bottom, rinse out, once over the top and twice over the bottom and then rinse out. If I do not complete this routine I will feel incomplete. My wardrobe is full of old fashioned clothes, my ’old’ shirts and my ’old’ trousers. I keep my leather jacket and have a variety of shoes. Some people would say that is quite feminine but I would disagree. Your feet are one of the dirtiest places on your body so you will want to keep them fresh and clean everyday. Time for breakfast… I will go to the café like every morning. Why? Because I do not see the point in spending time to buy ingredients and make something if you can get it all in one made by someone else and with a provided table and chair. Saves time and money in the long run. Let’s go… I walk through my front door and… Oh no… It’s John Payne from flat 16… Head down, walk quickly. I hear the fake fondness creeping up the hall as he says good morning; he uses those words to keep what he would call a friend and what I would call a torture… Still looking at the ground, will not make eye contact, same old… What the… where are my shoes? …Haha… Shit… do I need shoes? Of course you do!…Twit… Another agonising passing of John PAIN in the arse… Great start…