These were sort of an experiment I did, inspired by the writing style of the book Severance. They're all exactly 240 words (if I remember correctly. I wrote them a month ago.) and I think they're the best thing I've written that I can post here. As always, you don't have to read them. I just want to post them. (For the record, Drew is my boyfriend. It just occured to me that that is a necessary fact.)
1/8/10
My feet are so cold, they ache, oh how they ache I don't want to be here, I want to be at home, or under the covers, or with Drew, rubbing my feet, making them warm, making me warm, making things right. And I am lying there, with his arm over my side, and his front to my back, and I am warm, and I am loved, and I am home. I have no home, no home but him, my friend, I never thought we would be together, even when people asked I laughed I told them it would never work we are too different, and we are, we are, you hunt food that I will not eat, and we worship at different alters, though you don't worship so much anymore, did that stop when your bother did? No, never ask that, never ask about it, don't make you sad, don't make you hurt. When you hurt on the inside, you hurt on the outside, your head, your hand, legs shoulders bleed and burn, bruise and tear, and even when I didn't know, when I didn't love you, I couldn't stand by, couldn't let you do what I did, what I won't do, I won't do it anymore, I told myself that, but I don't believe it when I say it, when I say I am happy I am happy I am happy as if saying it makes it true.
1/8/10
Moving moving and I read and I write and watch movies and play games and talk and listen and learn as much as I can about everybody else, because the other choice is to learn about me and I don't want to learn about me, I know too much already I know I lie, I know I hurt, and because I can't hurt alone, I make sure everyone hurts, I make them hurt for me, I make up reasons to hurt, so that I will know why, so that they will know why, even if it's the wrong why, it is something, something is better than nothing, if I can pretend that I know, pretend long enough, maybe it will be real. I really fell down the stairs, into the bookshelf, off the building, out of the car, into the water, the ice, the cement, off the edge of the world, of my sanity I have no sanity, I never had sanity, I float through and I pretend more pretending, it never ends I pretend I am sane, but no one believes, no one wants to get close to the crazy girl, get close and maybe you'll get crazy too. No one looks, they look away, and it's okay. I'm okay. No I'm not, but it doesn't matter. I can be alone, and I can keep moving, and pretending, and no one will ever care if someday I just stop
1/8/10
I write because I can't talk, because it hurts to talk, because I lie when I talk, I don't even mean to anymore, the lies pour out with the truth, spilling into the air before I can stop them, before I can say wait, that's not true I tell stories, then realize they never happened, or if they did, I wasn't there. And they start as real stories, they start with my memories, but then they disappear into the air, and I grab at them, and come back with things that never happened, that should have happened, making me my life into something other than what it is, making it make sense, making it different. I make me, again and again, each time I talk not just me, you talk, and you make a picture of who you are, who you could be, who you want to be, who you were. And people believe it. They take what you say, and what you do and what they think you really mean and call it you, not knowing, or refusing to know, that it is not you, that it cannot be you, that no one can ever know you all those people who say I knew him or I know you better than you know yourself they lie, even though they think they are honest because no one ever knows anyone, and least of all the ones they are close to.
1/9/10
People ask where they came from, and I tell them the stories and sometimes they believe and their pity is so kind it hurts and when they don't believe what I say, I must bear that too, when they know I lie, and their inner voice (and sometimes their outer voice) says get away get away and they do. It is enough that I was there, that I know why, that I am resolved never to do it again (for however long that lasts) I will try to explain this to you, as I have tried before, with other people, and they have never understood, and you won't either Understanding for you is not the same as understanding for me No matter how hard you try, you cannot get inside my head you cannot stop the pain stop the hate stop the loss but you will try, and I will love you for trying, I will love you for being you and for wanting to make it stop. I will love you even if you say I can't do this anymore and leave, leaving me with the same things I had when I started, only worse, because now I will know that I can be happy, that it is possible, and I will never be able to rest knowing it. And I will miss you, but I will not mourn, knowing that I had you for however short a time.
