The Sky Doesn't Write For You

rating: -2+x

Fuck her. I don't need her. I'm not needy. Since when have I been needy? She's the one who's always pissed off that I'm not giving her expensive gifts at all the worst times. And the audacity to call me short tempered? She's spent the last three years pushing me to the ed- -

I look up.

The fuck is he writing?


My full attention is drawn to a sky writer twisting and turning to form a currently unclear word. I stand paralysed in awe of the pilot's prowess and experience whilst one quiet voice in my head lists all the things I have to do, and another catalogs all the worst elements of her

What am I doing? I have stuff to do. I have to get all my stuff, cancel our joint insurance, find a mate's to stay at while I save for a new property, announce the breakup to my pare- -

Something tells me to look up again.


What, is he with PETA or something?



Oh God.
Why did I have to leave? It was never her, I'm just too much of an asshole. I've tried every therapy method under the Sun and I've stayed the exact same, of course I blamed it on her. If I just kept my mouth shut we'd be… happy together. It'd be my name up there. I'd smile and see a spiny W, trivial Is and Ls topped with a stylish A and M. But nope! Here I stand, an INDEPENDENT and FREE William under a Wiliam-less sky. Lucky me.

Whatever. Better get everything sorted out. I'll start with Mum, she has a right to know.
Beeeeep, beeeep.
Beeeeep, beeeep.
Beeeeep, beee- -
"Hey mate, everything alright?"
"Y- um, - Hey mum, uh, I just called to say that things aren't working out, y'know, relationship wise"
"I'm… not sure I get what you mean."
"I… had a break up."
"Aw mate. Well, your dad and I just cleared out a new room so if you want to come over with us while you sort things out that'd be more than okay."
"Thanks Mum, but I… I'll be right."
I'll be alright. As fucking if.


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