Russian Roulette

I….I hope she makes you smile, the way you made me smile on the other end of the phone in the middle of a highway driving alone…..


Dear diary….he left today…


My fingers shook as I struggled to get the words on paper. One letter at a time, curves and strokes of ink formed by the tip of my pen became more consistent….a jumble really of words with missing letters here and there but at least after an eternity of relearning the art of holding a pen right in the first place, we were finally getting somewhere. Looking over the words I’d curved on the back of my pen case and tracing them with my still shaking thumb, I smiled….a bright smile…like all was right with the world…. And then I laughed. So hard my whole body rocked in gesture, throwing my head back and closing my eyes till the thumping in my head picked up in speed and intensity. Surprisingly though my skull didn’t fracture, my heart only beat faster while it’s weight had me begging to lose this fight. I don’t want to be here anymore….


Oh baby I….I hope you hear a song, that makes you sing along, and gets you thinking about her and the next several miles turn into a blur…


A fresh stream of tears was gushing from me now. I clutched the pen in my fingers like it had the answers to all the questions I would never allow myself to ask. All the questions I was afraid would have answers…. answers I needed to hear but had no capacity to understand. My head was still thumping, it was three minutes to midnight and my severely disheveled looking self was still breathlessly trying to not to tear up her vocal cords in an effort to release a fraction of the distress somehow caged in her five foot physical frame. The mild fever I had earlier was quickly escalating and the muscle tension in my shoulders, arms and calves was only tightening the knots in my gut and intensifying the muscle spasms in my hamstrings and thighs. My stomach churned…and started revolting…not a good sign…


I hope you both feel the sparks by the end of the drive, I hope you know she’s the one by the end of the night….
The cold air bit into my skin, clawing into me at half past six in the morning. I was sweating though, if you wisely disregard the moisture around my now fluffy and swollen eyes, like I said…I’m fine. My burning lungs and nostrils seemed to disagree with that notion though. But I had to workout the energy my body somehow produced with absolutely no food in reserve in the first place. The rhythmic pattering of my shoes against the ground gave an odd comfort. It was the one thing going as it should have. I had maintained my pace for over ten minutes now….three seconds to cover five yards. The mechanic factionalism of my limbs a temporary distraction. I slowed down to check the stopwatch around my neck to see how much time I had left to break last week’s record. Three minutes huh? That’s about right…


I hope you never ever felt more free ,tell your friends that you’re so happy….I hope she comes along and wrecks everyone of your plans, I hope you spend your last dime to put a rock on her hand….
Dear diary it’s been a week….


I’m finally starting to see a lot more me in the mirror now. Gluing together the pieces of myself that are fortunately big enough to fix. My energy is evening out slowly and the next day’s goals have me a little more excited to live. I’ve started smiling again…taking care of myself…showing up for myself…choosing myself. Like I once said…I’ve been down this road too many times. Every time was different but every time was me. Same concept different questions. A breath at a time….one task after another. One workout schedule after another, art piece after art piece. Thirty second pulsing single straight leg glute bridges still have me counting down the seconds three seconds in though. Barely being able to tilt my head enough to fully view the stopwatch, but I try, mostly in five second chunks, and I do get there. Well most times anyway.


I hope she’s wilder than your wildest dreams…. She’s everything you’re ever gonna need….
Dear diary it’s been a month…


“Out the shower with you in three minutes young lady or I’m switching off the heater!” mom threatened from the kitchen. Damn a girl can’t have her award show in peace around here? I was literally about to receive a Grammy for my indisputably fantabulous vocals. Grumbling in a language I’m pretty sure isn’t even invented yet about overbearing mothers and entitlement to shower rights ,I got back to my room and got ready for church. Familiar traditions I found comfort in realigning with, that kept me rooted to who I am for now. Roses set aflame I now imagined , could make royally scented perfumes…because…why not….
And then I hope she cheats…like you did on me….

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