Chapters I till X

Chapter II


I’m standing in front of the mirror, inhaling-exhaling, as my stomach bounces on the wave of my breathing. Fuck-ke-duck Michelle, you got fat.
These past couple of weeks were spend a little to much in holiday mode. Dahm, you’ve grown fast. In size unfortunately.
Not is wisdom nor length. Or maybe I have, I don’t always recognize wisdom until I make a fool out of myself and hopefully learn a lesson. Thing is, this belly is getting immense.
I stare at the bag with the pregnancy test that I threw in the corner 2 days ago. Hell no I’m pregnant..hell no. I mean, these IUD’s are reliable right..?
Only like what, 3% of the women who have a IUD could still become pregnant?

I shake my head and walk towards the kitchen, I know my life story and everything that has gone wrong in it..so a 97% change I could be part of that 3%.
I open the freezer and search for my box of spinach as I hear footsteps in the hallway. One of my roommates walks in with a big bag of candy.
My eyes already hurt by just looking at all the sugar.

“Look what I got at the daycare. All these sugar-free mama’s got nothing on me for taking their kids candy.
At least half of those 6 year olds were crying, but my weekend couldn’t start better man!”

Patrick looks like a young version of Hugh Grant.
And with his thick British accent plus sugar kick from probably all the lolly he’s eating, makes him look like a high-on-life version of Hugh Grant.

“Yeah, well I’m with those sugar-free mama’s though. None of that poison is going to be stock up here in the kitchen.
Take it to your room or throw it in the trash can, where it belongs.”

“Fuck you Michelle, I’m gonna eat it all. Getting freaking high on it.”

I like Patrick. We clicked from the very beginning. He’s just as direct as I can be and when we tell each other to fuck off, it’s out of nothing but love.

“You’re okay? You seem a little distracted the last couple of days. Is it that guy again? I know you’re the best advice giver here in this building, even beyond.
But know one thing, with your level of patience..If he did something that makes you think he’s an asshole. Than he’s an asshole.”

“Hahahaha, thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. But I’m fine, just pushing myself to do a little to much and thinking I have to little time to do so.
Thanks for checking in though”, I say realising I’m getting worse with my poker face.

Max. Oh stupid klojo you are.
I never thought I would become one of those people who would have such a hard time letting go of a relationship.
Even though I now know that those 7 months had everything except the values of a healthy relationship. But after all that happened, everything we shared.
It created this web of feelings and I got tangled right up in it. All these words cut right through my thick hollow comfort zone that I’ve created through the years.
And as much as I want to pretend I no longer care..I do. I still do.
But these feelings are no longer the same. They’re out of concerns and sorrow. Since he managed to fuck up his life throughout summer.
Why am I always the one that cares to much? And I don’t mean it out of weakness or pity.
It’s just that it becomes less ‘cool’ to care about someone. 100%, inside and out.
Maybe it’s because I learned after years of doubting and hating myself, that it’s a beautiful thing to see thru someone’s struggles.
To remind them their worth, uplift them and make life one hell of a good party to attend to.
Regardless their thoughts and wishes that make them want to check out and leave from time to time.

We broke up 5 months ago, but still WhatsApp with each other every now and then. Especially during the nights, since neither one of us found the perfect solution to numb the voices in our head when we try to sleep. I know it’s a bad thing to do. Closure doesn’t succeed when still playing with each others feelings while creating new memories.
I guess the comforting words from each others point of views are the one thing we need to hear to heal right now.
But I need to let go, let the past stay the past. All that happened, happened, stop looking back.
I’m living my life in New York right now. A city that offers so many distractions, that it’s actually ridiculous to know that he still manage to cross my mind daily.

Also, I’ve got this growing belly to worry about. I sit down on my bed and open my laptop, I can easily rest at least half of the keyboard on my stomach instead of using a pillow like I normally would. As I check todays weather I see my phone lighten up. A message from my friend Felix. We played a beneficial part in each others lives the past few months.
‘I’m not enjoying Amsterdam as much as I use to since you left, kinda miss you. Kinda ok, like 74%. 82% maybe if you include your red heels.’

Felix. Yet another person to write a book about. I stare at the text, I stare at the bag in the corner. Ok Michelle, let’s get this over with.
As I open the package I see yet another message from F. I read it, I read it again. I look at the test and read his third text. Shit.


ALL THESE LETTERS, WORDS AND SENTENCES ARE WRITTEN BY MICHELLE BRAAKHUIS. REALITY MIXED WITH A HINT OF IMAGINATION. LIFE AS IT IS, OR COULD BE. ALL NAMES WERE CHANGED TO FIT THE CHARACTER MICHELLE TRIED TO DESCRIBE. NO RIGHTS TO COPY-PASTE ANY OF THIS INFORMATION.

Advertisements