A letter.

When the wind reached its top speed, the tree branches were stretched half way to the ground. The tall grasses pressed flat and flowers closed their petals, like lashes, against its bitter sweetness. Only the clouds revelled in the weather, dancing and racing across the skies. I only had to look up once, catch a glimpse of an orange sun setting quickly, before I knew it was time to find shelter indoors.

The summer months are always like this, days blurred with hard winds, warm rains, and moments of blissful peace. I spend my nights watching the flames bounce and leap, as they lick the wood in the fireplace. Every crackle of the embers is like a soft kiss to my ears. I can still remember the times when we would sit there together, before you went away, and I daydream now about your return. It's been weeks and there has been no word from you, my love. I know in my heart we will be together again someday, and I do try to be patient. I will wait for you. I take comfort in repetition and find myself numb to the days passing but I see this as a blessing because it means time isn't being hard on me. The days aren't endless, though they have been many.

In the fall the trees will stiffen with red leaves. My hair will have grown long again and the waters in the rivers and lakes will cool, lulling the fishes to restfulness. It will be here soon, as I wait for you. By then it will be as though everything waits for you with me. Can't you hear the birds singing?

On the totem pole of life, I tend to come last on most people's lists, including my own. I eat enough to get through the day, sleep enough to have the right amount of brain power to survive my tedious job and in between I sit invisible. This is what is more commonly known as "surviving" but really just barely. I still find it amazing how little you actually need to do to get through a day and right now I'm missing the months spent in pajamas feeling like death because, at the very least, I knew it had to get better. I hate this coasting through life shitty feeling that I've come so accustomed to.

Would you really miss me if I really disappeared one day? Would it be an "Oh well..." thing or would there at least be a slight sigh attached to the thought bubble? I don't ask for much in life...

And it's not that I don't have oodles to look forward to in the coming weeks. It's not that at all. It's just... well... I'm tired.

he has
fabulous
gas, legs like Greek
columns and eyes like
perfect summer hammocks.

I'm so jealous of his world; living in a mixture of make-believe and reality. All of it always so real. I need to find my way out from behind a computer screen. It's just so easy to hide here. It's been a long time since anyone has inspired me to come out of hiding, to want to come out. It's nice to be noticed once and a while.

If I were to jump off a building I'd do it backwards with the heals of my feet over the edge. I wouldn't actually jump, either. I'd lean back and ease my body into the air. I'd die looking up at the moon and the stars. I'd never see the ground coming.

I'm not well today. Lately the days have merged into one long sad song of routine and habit. All things lead me to a place in my heart I wish I never saw. Sometimes it actually feels painful. Days like these remind me of how desperate I am to leave this place but at the same time, with my confidence in life shot to hell, I find myself lacking the hope and the drive to make change. It has to get better than this, but can it? Can it really? Outside the sun is shining but I can't shake this feeling that none of it makes a difference. Tomorrow I'll wake up in the same place to the same life and all I can do in the meantime is count down the hours before it's decent for me to try to fall asleep again.

I crave dreams, like water. I'd drown myself if I could just to stay there a little longer.

Why is it that every time I find myself reaching out the only things that answer back are machines. Alarm clocks, computers, cars, light bulbs, microwaves and curling irons. I want to feel something other than this. A pinch. A slap. A long hard fuck. Anything to alter this pain inside me. Anything would be better than this.

I am an extraordinary machine.

I think if I actually described the things about my family that really disturbed me- the real reasons why I've wanted to be anywhere but here since I was 15- you might understand a little bit about me better. But I'm not gonna. Some things in life are better repressed...