Welcome To My Mind

So, as I have a job that forces me to sit in front of a computer all day, I figured... well, what the hell. Join the revolution. Start a BLOG. Let random e-people read my random e-thoughts. I dunno.

So... I could tell stories...write some fiction...hell, even write some of those "letters you write but don't send."

Anyway, whatever. It's more for me than any of you voyuers out there.. but hey, whatever turns you on I guess.

In the meantime a nice story...

“Take care” she said, not really looking at him as she followed him to the door. She managed to glance at him once as he passed through it and saw a look on his face that confused her. Did he think she was going to beg him? It almost looked like disbelief.
The lock clicked into place and she turned around to go back to her bedroom. The picture had to go. She tore it up quickly, without thinking. Knowing that in times past, moments like these led to squirreling away more bits of nostalgic detritus she had collected.
Not this time.
Into the living room. The pin from the bike rally. Garbage. Tickets stubs from Vegas. Garbage. The clothes! Back to the bedroom…but wait. She LIKES these shirts. To the top shelf of the closet she just moved in to…at the back. Where she won’t see them until she’s better. She just can’t bring herself to throw away good clothes. Back to the living room. Wallet… the sweet nothing she carried with her that meant so much when he wrote it…don’t read it…just tear it up and throw it away. This bandaid WILL come off quickly goddamnit. Camera. Film. Waste it, throw it away. Everything. A 5 month love affair destroyed in one morning. All traces of him removed in under 15 minutes. She called her roommate.

Then she cried.
And then she made a promise to herself. Never again. Never again. Never again. She will never let herself love freely again. Never. They all leave. All of them. No matter what they say. No matter what they do.
“I’m not that guy.”
“I love you.”
“I want to take care of you.”
Bullshit. All the same. And she refused to let this one in. She wasn’t going to fall apart again. She had made a fool of herself the last time. This time would be different. She’d be ok. But she was afraid to wake up tomorrow morning.

Wake up. Fuck. It happened. And now it’s time to throw up. Walk slowly around the apartment. Not wanting to be far away from her roommate. Where is this fear coming from? Go to work. Go to rehearsal. Dry heave throughout the day. Being left is a full-body experience. She feels like an addict. Home. Cry. Sleep. Wake up. Start it all over again.

Then the dark thoughts come. The ones that have been quiet for so long. Thoughts like, What if she just didn’t wake up in the morning? It would be great to just disappear completely. How hard would it be? She knows something is terribly wrong. So, she goes through all the right channels. All the right doctors and starts to try and get herself well.

All the while in her head.. never again. Never again. Never again.

She prides herself in being ok. Being strong. She isn’t well, isn’t ok isn’t strong.

And it’s scary.