Please stop.

My neighbour’s toddler is having a bad day.

He started wailing at nine, and save for a quick break to drum his heels on the wall, he’s been at it ever since. The walls are thick. It’s not too loud. It’s just endless and miserable, and it’s itching my ears.

This must be my punishment for going “eeeeee” all day yesterday. I won’t do it again. Just, please, please stop screaming.

There’s no peace to be had, and no comfort. I don’t like it, no, no. I don’t like it at all.

I tried going to sleep, but I can’t. When I face to my left, my hip grinds in its socket. When I face to my right, acid creeps up my throat. On my front, I can’t breathe. On my back, I cough and choke. I can’t sleep sitting up, and I know because I tried, and I’m sick of this crying.

Oh. It’s stopped. It’s finally, finally…

…no. He was just drawing breath.

I’m envious, really. Lungs like that, can you imagine? Such vitality, to howl all day! I’d climb a mountain. Take a hike. Get a bicycle…go swimming….

I can’t listen to this. I’ll dash my brains out.

When I was four years old, I won a ride in a seaplane. It was at my school’s beach day. They pulled my name from a hat. We went up past the gulls, where the blue turned to sunshine, and that’s all I remember. It was good, though. Really good. I think there was ice cream.

I was going somewhere with that, but I’m just so…unhappy with this day.

I’m all alone.

No-one is listening.


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