Relief. Or the Idea of It.

Things have been very hard, I know. I saw a boy tie himself to a tree yesterday, by the ankle. He tied himself hard and the ankle bled a little onto a walk about of black ants carrying a dead, or wounded. Two birds fell out of trees in the park, dead. A hissing stream of low lying clouds rained for three hours and then disappeared and every older man's face was angry and grumpy as he drove his car or his truck. I was, myself, twice attacked by jumper cables, and that night I also locked myself out of the house with nothing but duct tape and a jar of organic peanut butter. At midnight, my neighbors began vacuuming while playing harmonica, and no one answered the door. A police car drove by and kept driving. A car alarm suspended belief for two hours before the work alarm went off. All this time I thought of you, and your spider veins and smart eyes, those dark cracked glasses you won't replace and your summer ankle socks, your cat, your tom tom, your Belgian waffles with honey, the cliff of your nose that you hate and I love, your Pierce Brosnan underwear (haha you always hated him) and the slices of peach that you put on a plate next to my cereal at breakfast after M. died.

I know you are speechless and I haven't called you but one time at midnight when my neighbor's mowed the lawn and I could hear you breathing and you cried and I felt like shit and I'm REALLY SORRY I ever called. I knew better but I miss you. My fingers hurt and my vagina tingles like it's falling asleep and I know you have got to do what you have no choice about doing and I know I love you and wouldn't love you if you weren't like this but I am like ME and so I hate it, anyway. Even though there isn't another slideshow to put in. Yesterday Lily posted the news and two people called me who I know for a FACT that you hate so I won't mention their names but they both received scathing replies from me. Of course that is a total lie but I did tell them briefly that I was too busy to really talk but thank you. I know you might/might not be smiling at that point and at least that is some relief, or the idea of it.

A big propaganda had begun in the house and I'm supposed to be going along with it but I'm not. J. is not talking to me again and S. said I was insensitive and pushy, which I translate into ' not going along with the script '. I lost my toothbrush and it made me miss you so much I cried but then J. opened the bathroom door and when he saw me crying he made this HORRIBLE face like I was the pathetic and walked away and for a minute I thought about opening his neck artery with his toothbrush, like they always do in movies. It made me HATE him for a minute. Really. That hate feeling where you think you might throw up, even though I know right now you are shrugging at me, it's true, and I can't just let it go, because he's such a wimp. He's more muscular and tall than ever and he's the biggest coward of all time. He's not crying, though.

I'm sure you remember that S. lost her license last year after the work party incident and she just got it back and wanted me to pay for her insurance. When I wouldn't loan her the money she hissed at me. I can't BELIEVE I'm the one everyone scowls at when I'm being HISSED at. I know you are thinking this is all the same bullshit as always and it's my fault for being unhappy since I should move out. And you are right. I'm just saying that nothing has changed. Not even me. I still miss you. I miss you more than ever. I think you are the closest thing to real I've ever known outside of Mrs. Nickels and she is a little too real, if you ever smelled her up close. I'm so lonely is what I"m saying. L. says I'm unfocused and he's right but he's so focused it's shit scary. He's so focused I think he's literally squeezing himself to death. His eyes bulge when he's mad. I guess the reason I have to tell you these same things is because sometimes I think I'm starting to see the reverse of everything, like they see it, and I wonder if I'M the one who is crazy, and then I feel like I"m going to throw up and my head buzzes and I feel trapped inside of myself and I don't know what to think or believe and that is right when you would say something really simple and honest, maybe not the most brilliant thing ever but so honest, and I would be able to breathe and that huge dark crushing weight would ease up a little.

L. is so quiet all the time. I can't look at him. I can't stand to see him like this. He's shrinking up. The worst part is that I think he likes it and the scariest part is that I know he does, he likes being like this and I can see by the way his face is that it feels kind of GOOD to him, to be this controlled and tell these lies to himself and I know the truth is never going to make him feel like that. So the truth loses. And that means that I lose. I lose L. That is what it means. When I move out- I WILL, stop smirking- L. and S. will call and I'll call them but the final closeness between us all will be gone...you know... all of us, telling the same story. All of us in on it. They are starting to hate me because I'm not saying the right lines anymore. I actually said that to S. one time and she mocked me. She said I was ridiculous and dramatic and always sure I was right. That's what she always says, because what else can she say. In the kitchen last weekend S. actually broke a plate because I said that P. had never really liked us. Which is the most honest and obvious thing to anyone- anyone who knows us- but for the three of us? It's not what we agreed to say. You know? You do and that is why I call you at midnight when the lawn mower is going. I'm sorry about that. Next time I'll call at noon. I miss you so much. Please hurry and get better.

I just read this over and realized I said hardly anything to comfort you. ( I was going to say 'make you feel better' but doesn't that sound so brutal really? ) That's because, as we both know, I am an infantile beast. But I do love you.

Love,
N.