Truth.

I lay back in bed. The gentle ringing of my alarm clock had jarred my senses enough to rouse me, but in actuality I was far from awake. It would take a bucket of water poured over my head, or a slap across the face to wake me up, but luckily neither of those were on the horizon. No it’s just me, my bed covers, and the late morning sun trying to squeeze past the curtains, gently illuminating the room.

I slowly reach up to turn on my music player. The crisp sound of Stevie Wonder immediately, but delicately fills the room. The classic ‘Lately’ reverberated in my ears. I close my eyes, assured I wouldn’t sleep, and imagine the pain one must feel to write a song like that. Knowing that the one you love and give yourself to, the one who you can’t take your eyes off, just doesn’t see you anymore. And all you have is this impending wait, with a gun to your heart just waiting for the trigger to be pulled.

But there are sometimes when a break up occurs, and you don’t see it coming. All of a sudden the bullet flies into your chest without warning; you don’t have time to move for as soon as you know about it, as soon as the bullet comes into view, bang, it’s already hit you.

Looking back, I think I have been one of those assassins in the dark on a number of occasions. I turn the music off, go downstairs, and get some breakfast. With the absence of curtains, the sun is gushing through the windows and hurt my eyes, which are accustomed to darkness. I drop the yolk and white into the frying pan and watch it sizzle, then serve it with toast and lashings of ketchup. I reminisce on the days when my father would make me eggs every Saturday, it was house tradition, but growing up takes these beautiful traditions away. You move out, become an independent man, and think everything will be all good. You can wake up, go out and come home whenever you like. You can drink beer with your breakfast, and you definitely don’t have to worry about your mother hearing when you have some night time company.

But your family are integral to life. They are the ones who wake you up when you sleep in, or fetch you from the middle of nowhere when you’ve had too much drink. You love them and all, but you take it for granted. You don’t realise how much you miss them till you’re gone. I can never get my eggs done as well as he can – who knew fried eggs could be such an art.

Sometimes songs seem to follow you, I can still hear Stevie pouring his heart out even when I’m in the kitchen, and the eggs are sizzling away. I think back to the good times me and her had; going on day trips, eating at fancy restaurants, kissing in the rain. They were good times, but when I pulled that trigger I didn’t think about that. I haven’t thought about it till now. My eggs are burning, and the toast is getting cold. All is fair in love.