It’s morning. I know because on the window sill two crows are anxiously cawing about life. I open my eyes and the first thing I think of is you. I shut them again. I turn over and bury my face in the pillow. And I feel you. I let out a soft squeal in pain and turn over again to lie on my back and after a moment, wipe my moist eyes. When I touch my face I don’t feel my skin. I feel you. It aches. Your touch. I sit up and face the mirror. Misery drowns me anew when I look at what stares back at me. You have left me scarred. You have left my face unrecognisable. I am not sad. All I feel is anger. Overwhelming anger. I don’t want you, I never did. I have tried everything to remove you from my life but every day you make your presence felt like never before. You are a million volcanoes, constantly erupting and making a wreck of me. You are unwelcome. I don’t love you. Just wait till I find the perfect anti-blemish cream.
The early summer outbreak of Pimples stimulates a variety of emotions.