Four hours of dead anticipation. I called, part out of worry and part something hollow which has no name, “Sorry, love, someone needing me, I couldn’t avoid it.” and a tiny voice inside me sing-songs, no that – was yesterday no you – when I cried – yesterday to hear – your voice – and it didn’t – matter. There’s a show tonight at Cafe Du Soliex that I’m considering going to. From past experience, I know that if something doesn’t happen, if I don’t bury myself in distraction, if I don’t get out of the house, I’ll be something worse tomorrow when I open my eyes to an empty world. I want to open my soul to some sort of light, I want to have fires and a reason to continue living this life I seem to be wearing because I have nothing better to do.
Does anyone have a song with the word affliction in the lyrics?
He’s here now, asleep with his shoes on, stretched out on my bed. Skatia is clambering all over him, nosing for somewhere to burrow as the covers and pillows have all been pushed to one side for a few days. I’ve only been using a very tiny corner to sleep in, barely enough to count as a quarter, barely enough to painfully curl my bruised body into itself. silenceleigh is getting married to her married lovers, and that cheers me. That unconventional relationships are being meted out some happiness gives me hope, it lets me pretend that my chapter of this too typical story might have an ending without a poison cup thrown against a wall. I’m tired of counting tears, of holding oceans in my hands, collecting them in the folds of my clothes beneath my bowed head. I don’t do that anymore. I refuse but for weakness. I deny in spite of misery. I need you more than you need me, but in spite of it I would be nastier and far more cruel.
He shifts in his sleep as I type this. His hands pull a heavy fold of blanket closer to him, and he mistakes it for me, whispering, “I need you”. Somehow that simple thing stings my heart, it closes my throat. I’m going to try and take his shoes off without waking him. Considering the ferret’s path of exploratory perambulation, it shouldn’t be a task difficult, but I still hesitate. My secrets are things like I want to be this man’s safety. I want to be his home. We sat and stared out into darkness once, scanning the water without really looking, and he said to me, “You know it’s reciprocated.” and I understood. The darkness let us hide, like solitude does, but it didn’t make these things lies. We cut with our truth.
Larry posted something sensual with my name on it, which helps a little. After all, how many times does a stranger girl get to be associated with someone like Slinka?