Every night when I’m in bed, while the sun is setting and there’s just enough light peeping between the blinds hanging closed against my window, I see the silhouette of my mouse sitting on my left side.
See, the thing about my pet mouse is that it’s not real. I got him at a market a while back in London. He was supposed to replace the feeling of loneliness after my boyfriend at the time had flaked on me yet again. My boyfriend had promised to take me to this market for about 4 months and every time the monthly market rolled around, he was too busy, too preoccupied to hold up to his promise.
Anyway, I ended up calling my dark green, crotchet mouse Pip after somehow losing him in a pile of blankets, duvets and pillows. I remember at first calmly and then quite desperately looking for him between the sheets, calling out:
“Mouse, mouse, mousey, mouse, mouse, darling mouse! Pippy! Pippy? Pip! My darling, dear and sacred Pip, where the hell are you?!”
And then soon after finding him lying by himself on the floor after probably falling out from between my ruffled duvet. I apologised to him and placed him at the head of my bed, on my left hand side.
At the beginning of this post, I stated that Pip was not real. That was incorrect, Pip is very real to me. He represents the only other toy without reason, I took a liking to and decided after about 2 hours of browsing to pick up and openly and instantly fall in love with. I fell in love with him. Kind of like I did with my ex boyfriend.
Except only one stayed.
Nakedstreetkid out x