Tomorrow I’ll be better. Tomorrow I’ll pretend that I’m fine and i will be fine. Tomorrow I’ll wake up slightly bruised and battered but clearer sighted. Tomorrow I’ll smile and brace myself for whatever lies ahead.
Tomorrow I’ll laugh along with the rest and let my mind wander every few minutes but nevertheless I’ll forge ahead. Tomorrow I’ll make them smile again with the treats and laughter that I’ll put on. Tomorrow I’ll make my excuses and excuse myself from any awkward non-confrontations. Tomorrow I’ll look at myself in the mirror and turn the other cheek because i won’t be reminded. Tomorrow I’ll brace myself for the swells and yellows. Tomorrow I’ll pretend like tonight never happened and turn my face to the future ahead.
Tomorrow I’ll think about later on and how much better this family will be once we get over it. Tomorrow I’ll get over it. Tomorrow I’ll be okay and he’ll be okay and I’ll pray that they forget what they’ve seen. Tomorrow maybe she’ll see that I’m not just a villain bitch and that there’s a side to every story. Tomorrow in their eyes I’ll be more than just a rebel stirring trouble. Maybe.
Tomorrow will be okay.
But for now, tomorrow seems a long way. It seems like a long wait to wait. And if it ever comes, I’ll be anticipating.
But right at this moment, lying awake staring at the ceiling while my love, my only reprieve, snores gently in his sleep, i am distant and alone in my stationary journey with only my dull aches for company.