By Sight

I'm sitting in a cafe, across the intersection from where I watch you drive into town. It's the closest I ever get to you.

In the ER

I went into the ER on Thursday looking for answers which, perhaps, was the wrong reason.

No answers came.

He was a bald man, skin spotted by the sun on his head and arms, and he sat down on the chair next to me, saying the ER doctor was convinced I was not safe, and needed hospitalization.

I said, "That's his opinion."

The psych-tech from county said, "What do you think?"

"If I wanted to be hospitalized, I would have went to STanford or Cottage."

He didn't say it, but he asked himself, "What is she doing here?" "You can talk to Mobile Crisis over the phone, and someone will come out to where ever you are. You don't have to come to the Emergence Room unless you feel like you just have to be somewhere safe right then."

I already knew that, but in the ER the pressure in my brain decreases. I can't explain it. IT has a calming effect.

"I don't know what you expected. I can't help you with your problems, just evaluate you for hospitalization, " the psych-tech continued.

I wanted something. Encouragement. Some words of wisdom. Some window to be opened. A light shined in the dark. A hand stretched out to hold onto.

There was nothing for a girl who dreams of driving her car into a tree or telephone pole.

Why Marriage?

"You should marry him," my mother says while we are driving to the prison, where she works. She is referring to Joseph.

"Why?" I respond.

"Financial security," she answers back.

I can't imagine it. Settling down and just settling.

"He's crazy about you," she says.

Living an upper middle class lifestyle, plastering a smile on my face 24/7. Becoming a stereotypical bored housewife eating prescription opiates or benzos and finishing off bottles of wine by myself because life just doesn't thrill me, life just doesn't fuck me hard enough anymore.

I  see it as a giant trap while others see marriage as a life accomplishment, a part of growing up--bills paid, house bought, student loans cleared, becoming an adult from a kid.

No Words

"I wanted to fuck her, the way she sat there offering herself up, was like candy on the counter..." --Hades, entry: No Words Come to Mind

Lost Loves

I am testament to the durability of the [American] institution called marriage.

Emily

On December 30th, 2005, Emily caught her leg on the fence, tore it almost completely off and hung herself until she died.

It was probably the most gruesome experience of my life.

I found my own limitations as a human being and as a pet owner.

I'm sorry, baby.

LIes and Breaking Each Other's Hearts

I went out with Lucky last night, and met up with him at a bar downtown Yuppieville. He was already drinking by the time I got there.

Everything was normal or usual in the beginning. WE just talked chit-chat, about our lives, who was doing what. Finally, the topic turned deep.

I asked him if there was ever a woman he trusted.

He said, "I never trusted you."

I asked him why.

HE said, "Remember that night you were in Santa Barbara..." He was talking about back in 2006 while we were still together, but fighting at the time.

He was referring to the night I was in Huntington Beach where I was visiting a client, and I was paid $500 for full service. Lucky called me while I was with the client. While returning Lucky's phone call, I lied about what I was doing that far south. I told him I was day catch riding.

Even then, he didn't believe me, but he let the subject drop at the time.

The next day, he dumped me.

He brought up many times over the years what I was doing that night--really--but I never answered.

Last night, I decided if he wanted to know the truth, perhaps he should although I couldn't see it doing anything but just more harm.

I left the bar without answering, again, about what I was doing that particular night, but it kept nagging at me.

I sent him  a TXT-message, "Its a shame you don't trust me but for years I cared for you deeply and for years I felt guilty over that night. I was driving home from Huntington Beach when you called. I was paid to sleep with a man. I needed the money for car insurance. It was the first time I was paid for having sex. Now you know the truth. Do you feel better knowing?"

He sent a TXT-message back, "Yes thank you. I trust you more now."

That was an almost perfect response, but of course, he had to fuck it up.

He sent another hours later. "I am sorry for breaking your heart in the first place, and now I feel like I just break your heart even more every time we hang out, but I know what I felt at the time and I was right."