Dead Babies, Dead Boars

May 15th, 2009 9:59:33 am - Subscribe

I keep having dreams where I'm given a body that I'm expected to dispose of.

This hour calls for several cigarettes I cannot allow myself. My fingers are bleeding, my teeth are shaking. I love my parents but I need my fix.

My camera is no where to be found. I have no idea how long I can pull this off.

These are the things I wish I could say out loud.

There is no one I can talk to. No one to help me anymore. My brother is upset with me for my revealing outburst. My parents are completely unaware of anything I wish to rant about. Jeremy is no longer in the picture. Chris simply does not have the time for my trifles.

I drove past his old house. Two new cars sat out front. He no longer waits for me when I come to town. He no longer knows when I'm near. I drove through this sleepy town, imagining myself on his moped. The wind blowing through the hair escaping my pink helmet. The people laughing because we were just that darling together.

The romance, the laughter, the joy has now slipped away. I'm left once again, completely alone. Another summer sits motionless in front of me.

Work. Work. Panic. Drink. Work.

School. My life has become so automated. I put coins in the slot and watch as the world drops fattening, unsatisfying, overpriced snacks at my feet.

I'm bored. I'm tried. I'm sick of this lifelessness that is my daily routine.

My idea of spontanaity is cleaning my house.

I am in desperate need of real human moments.

Paradoxically, I find myself preparing to hide again to avoid any further disappointment.

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