Letters to Strangers
Someone -
The underdog came through.
I've had the same nightmare two nights in a row. Both times it woke me up a few minutes past five in the morning with a headache. I spent yesterday cleaning and cooking and driving and wishing. I spent yesterday talking, and now, I spend today hoping. Hoping. Who would've guessed I would eventually succumb to that?
I am humbling myself.
I am adding color into my world.
I am, still, burning tread through the fast lane -
I absolutely love driving in the rain.
Yet, despite all of of that - the schoolwork, the community service, the college classes, the absence of family and friends and lovers, the
I am far too busy to do this - I feel like I have been sleeping, and yet, I feel so unrested. The morning continues to come unwelcome. The chirping of birds as the sun comes through after four weeks of rain is a chorus I wish to silence. I'm afraid. With every passing day is a day only closer, and though I've been alright with that and staying in the light lately... when weekends waste away with me keeping myself busy... my mind diminishes and I sink into the unbearable reality that life is right at my heels and I just don't have the energy to keep dodging it anymore.
Since the new year Boone has died, Duke has gone, too, Renee went bat-shit crazy off painkillers and booze, and I am so worn of red-eyed people and their false lives. And I'm so close, now, but it hurts because that closeness is another moment towards something that breaks me into pieces just thinking about it. But I have to think about it. I have to because of emails, because of trips, because of excitement and my growing resentment and it is fucking
killing me but I can't do anything to stop it.
And that nightmare is shaking me. Always. Constantly. And the fog scares me, and the blue sky, and fucking dammit I wish I could sleep through its' ending without dishes banging me awake or the fucking Weather Channel blasting too early.
I just wish I knew what happens to the other two, and why only the one survives to tell the story in the end.