Running away for the weekend. Will you miss me?

In case you weren't aware, insomnia is real. I'd just like to take this moment to say to someone who denounced my predicament, go fuck yourself. The only thing that is bullshit about it, is how helpless you feel when you're going through it. Fuck! I'd gladly accept suggestions at this point. It's been years...

I've been dreaming my ass off lately but only at daybreak. It always feels strange and magical, no matter how often it happens, falling asleep in late morning hours when the rest of the world is awaking. The fact that I had to force my eyes shut at 6:30am is something that I can't explain the feelings about. I'm sick, in case you never knew.

I've been thinking about my dreams so much lately, running them over in my mind as the details withered up like the petals on the dead flowers in my room. I don't remember them now but it doesn't matter. They were there and they left an impression on my brain and if you've never experienced that than I can't help you.

My next story that I write will have something to do with the following quote:

I don't know what I look like with my eyes closed.

Fuck the power going out all the fucking time. I hate living here. Incompetent fucks behind the wires. They have been screwing over this neighborhood all my life (since I've been here all my life....) and I'm tired of it. You can add that to the list of reasons why I need to move out of this house. It's number 176.

Ah, life. Sorry to use the cliche, but I have to wonder why it is that the ones you love hurt you the most, and vice versa. Oddly enough it feels the same with my ability to forgive.

ugh. This isn't happening right now. Just know that my brain is active and that I'm not dead and lying strung out in a gutter somewhere.

School is out for the summer kiddies, and I aim to cause a ruckus.

Another work in progress... I've exhausted this for the night. Tell me what you think.

I fell in love with a two dimensional girl. Her name was Laina and she was thin, like paper. I caught her on a windy day. A strong breeze blew her right into my arms and she wrapped around me like a blanket, clinging. Her first words to me she whispered in my ear. I loved her when I first saw her smile. It never bothered me that she was as she was. I only wanted to see her happy. When she would smile, such a pretty smile, her cheeks budded and she swelled. Every other moment she was stick thin, like a skeleton. She could slip through the cracks in the sidewalk.

I would come home to find her curled up into a ball on the couch, crying. Laina only cried when she was alone. She would tell me how hard it was. When she was young, the boys and girls would laugh and point and make references about lumber as she walked by. I knew it hurt her, every time some woman would comment on her figure at restaurants or in shopping malls. In a world of fat blobs, everyone wished that they could look like her while she wished for a more extreme solution, one way or the other. If only she could shrink and disappear from this world or grow and become large like the rest of them and be lost in the crowd of gluttons. Laina would smile politely while they joked with her, always offering a handful or two of their flesh to donate to her cause.

Some people would scowl at her, I’ve seen them, thinking that she’s sick. Laina never hated food. She wasn’t anorexic or bulimic and she made a point of knowing the difference between the two. For a long time she tried to fix herself, eating all she could get her hands on, not counting the calories, but it never made a difference. She was destined to be as she was so she gave up being a glutton.

On the windiest of days we’d go to the park and I’d tie string onto her wrists. Then she would bolt away, spread her arms and leap up into the air. Laina could fly! She’d soar for hours, or as long as the wind would hold her. When she grew tired she’d flap her arms, tugging the end of the string that I held and I’d reel her back in. She’d float back down to me. Though I never told her, she looked like an angel and my heart would swell when she was safe in my arms again. She would tell me about all the things she saw while we walked back home.

It was on a day like that, that I lost her. She was up there in the sunshine riding the wind. I was sitting alone on the grass watching. I saw her floundering and my heart started to race and then the strings came loose. I thought that maybe the knots that I had tied around her wrists had come undone, or maybe that the string itself had snapped. I stood and watched as a gust of wind took her away. She floated out of my life as easily as she had floated into it and I never saw her again.

She had been getting worse, sadder and thinner. She stopped eating. All day she would hide under the covers of our bed and sleep. I did all that I could to try to make her smile but those fleeting moments didn’t seem to be enough anymore. It had been my idea that day, to go to the park. It was the first time I had seen her smile in months. As I tied a knot of string on each of her wrists, I noticed an anxious look in her eye, an eye for adventure. Before she turned to run she kissed me gently on my cheek and for the last time, I saw her smile. I saw her happy.