December 20, 2012

  • Okay so I'm totally failing at this assignment so the purpose of this is to do a pre-writing to get me into the mood of writing. I literally couldn't do it last night. I was getting all ready to go and I couldn't get my mind together. I mean, wait, that's a lie. I was at work till 11 pm. And I took my laundry home. When I took it home I found out that my laundry machine was broken or something and it took 2 hours to wash a load of clothes. I don't know why it took so long. My Dad and I watched the Punisher then I watched Lost in Translation then I watched Soul Surfer with Emily and then I watched a movie called "Wicker Tree" which is a more accurate remake of Wicker Man than Ol' Saint Nick Cage's version. It even had fucking Christopher Lee in it. Okay. I'm avoiding everything.

    So in my quest to distract myself I went ahead and I was on her facebook page. As in her, I mean the current misses. She had had a discussion with me about music where she clearly assumed I did not know anything about music. Sorry, that was me pausing to ignore my homework again. She didn't think I knew anything about music which is ridiculous because I know a fucking lot more than her. She is pathetic, wrapping herself in fantasy and low grade highly recommended if you want to be fucking cool shit. But like, if you wanted to be cool 14 years ago or something. Eh, maybe more like 20. Anyway, the point is, I wasn't hearing her voice. She was merely a gremlin carrying a message. There was him rubbed all over her. He is the true devil. I don't know if you have met the devil before but I definitely have one. He is the worst human being I have ever met because he personally made it his mission to go out and subdue me. Like a man with a rope attempting to break a horse. But it couldn't be another horse, it had to be me.

    It was like he saw that I was smiling and enjoying my life and exploring so many things and loving so many things more than him that he had to stop me. He wanted so badly for me to be hurt and he giggled and thought what would be the best way to explore this. I don't know what he's capable of because even in my moments of bitterness I want to love him and accept him as a stranger in the past who didn't mean to hurt me. But I believe he did, ya know? I believe he did it with a purpose. I believe he rode up to me and he wanted me to see the suffering in life. And he showed me in the harshest way possible. I have learned to be alone and love it, but when I'm alone in St. Louis, all I can think of is a musty bedroom with grandma curtains lovingly installed and it is a boring house in a boring neighborhood that is so boring I have to use a map to get there. Not just once, but every SINGLE time. That's how cookiecutter it is. And he's pulling me in, lusting after the fact that he can make me feel delirious and awful...because perhaps he knows and he sees it...but I have no interest in him whatsoever. I am merely there, by duty. He called and INSISTED I come over. It wasn't a request. He insisted. He insisted I show up. I didn't have a choice. I was a cup of water.

    I am lying on the ground I am lying in my own dreams and visions trying to see the end of this kaleidoscopic nightmare. HE is Japan but much less apparent! He is wrapped up in his own vision and he uses it to get things. He got me and laid semen down my throat. In Japanese folklore, if you swallow semen, you die. I believe he really did kill me that night. When I went to Japan I had so many days that I woke up and I thought I was dead. I literally thought I was dead. I just didn't know who the murderer was. He is worse than a tumor because I can't tell the doctors to get it out. I can take drugs to ignore it, run to ignore it, sleep and hope I don't dream of him because I saw him at the baseball game. He was sneaking up behind the red haired girl. He was green and tall and had hooves. That was him! That was the devil.

    I don't know how to rid myself of him and I want him out so badly. I don't know what to do. I am in the woods now. I am in St. Louis, praying every single day that I get kidnapped but knowing that I HAVE to be here. If I want to face this. If I want to work it out. I dream of being a famous author so that I can buy my parents and Sam May a house in California and NEVER come back. I will never come back to this city again. Even if God is screaming in my hair and ants are invading my room and biting me and there is death in the woods. I am a lichen. I am his sponge bath. He carried this feeling in him. He wanted me to bow down to him. He wanted me to surrender to him. How did he get it to work?

    HE offered me a cup of wine. At this point, my therapist says "Did he drug you?" And I hesitate. "He couldn't be capable of that" I said, completely non-reassuringly. What happened with the wine? God what happened with it? I drank a little bit, but I felt so drowsy, so fucked up. I didn't drink that much. Im capable of holding my drink. I can control myself. But in his bed my physically self got up and left the house where he had trapped me. I saw the outline of the bar on the stairs and the carpet on the stairs. I could see his doorway EXACTLY as it is! I was walking out, free, but I couldn't. I couldn't leave. I couldn't leave at all. I had to sit there and take it. And then I passed out. How did I pass out? How was I so messed up? He couldn't have ever drugged me. Impossible. Where would he get the drugs, living like a slug in his parent's house. Unless maybe he put some kind of sleeping thing in there. No. I saw him pour it....didn't I? Did I see him pour the first cup? I remember it was a soft plastic cup. I can't remember. I can't remember if it was glass or soft plastic. I can't remember. I can't remember if I saw him pour it or not. I don't want to remember. I don't want to remember any of this. I want it to go away. I want to logic it away in a file. I want it to be gone. I want it to be dead. I want to be dead from it.

    When I was in Japan, I thought I had literally died.

    When I went back to Iowa City, I knew I was in a wonderful place, but I knew it wouldn't ever be the same.

    When I was in Denver I would wake up mornings and have no idea where I was. No. Fucking. Clue.

    I reluctantly was dragged to the source of my wound and now I have to rot in it.