At the close of this Pride month, let’s take a moment to remind ourselves how necessary it continues to be.
A fiction monologue.
What day is it tomorrow? Thursday. No… Friday? … Wait, wasn’t it a Sunday when this all started? Can’t be bothered to work backwards. Too long ago. Makes my head hurt for no purpose. What’s the point in knowing anyway? Doesn’t make any difference. What you expecting, you stupid fucker? Fish on Friday? A Sunday roast?
Can’t see my calendar marks in the dark. Don’t even know which wall they’re on in this all-enveloping blackness. Can’t even see the measly, barred excuse for a window. Not surpising really, given how high up it is. And it doesn’t exactly give a view of the sky. Just another sodding stone wall. Dingy grey murk is the new sunlight. Almost forgotten what yellow is. Colour in general. Black is the absence of colour – remember that from school.
Hang on… thought there was to be no more sighing? Doesn’t help, does it? Continue reading