Nonsense

The suffocating smell of cigarette smoke mixed with the perfume of mulberry incense, creating a slightly sickening scent. The Decemberists spilled from the speakers on the tiny TV set, and I waited patiently for the phone’s gentle ring to interrupt the quiet melody. It wouldn’t happen any time soon, I realized as I placed my black ball-point pen on the clean sheet of notebook paper. Would the words I so longed to say come if I asked them to? It seemed easy for others but I’d been constantly waiting for everything for close to a year. I’d never minded waiting until recently; after everything that I’d worked so hard for had been ripped from underneath me. But wasn’t I accustomed to that? I should have been at the very least. Then again, I should have been a lot of things. Better in general. Did I really have to perfect myself? The role of Jesus didn’t really fit me, or did it? Was I not trying to reinvent the name? Was I not trying to reinvent myself? Who was I doing this for? The truth: I had no idea. Myself, perhaps? No, that wasn’t right. Maybe it wasn’t so much a ‘who’ as it was a ‘why.’ To get ahead? Ahead of what? Myself. Secretly, I had a huge amount of hatred for myself, and I hadn’t realized it until that very moment; it was a secret that I hid from even my eyes. But perhaps my eyes just refused to see it. In any case, it was there, and I hated it. And I laugh to think that I hated my hate. Progression just didn’t seem to be my area of expertise. Regression seemed about right.
Mulberry filled my nose again, and at that moment, I desperately wanted a cinnamon roll. One of those sticky, bakery-fresh kind. The kind that you get from Starbuck’s with a grande cup of mochaccino on a brutally cold day. The kind that leaves your fingers covered in a mess of white icing. It seemed as if it would satisfy the need for whatever it was I’d been wanting all day. I’d been full of anxiety all week, and hadn’t been sleeping properly. When I did happen to doze off, my dreams were filled with images of Santa Claus. That must have meant something. Maybe I was going crazy again. I had an empty spot within myself that I desperately wanted filled. At this point, I didn’t really care what it was filled with; love, lust, cement, cyanide, whatever. It no longer mattered to me.
There was a bruise on my knee. I didn’t know what it was from, or how long it had been there.
There were times when I felt such extreme happiness that it was almost hard to contain. And it was always so amazing to me that such little, simple things could bring out this excitement; things like hearing his voice first thing in the morning, or discussing my future as a heroin addict with my best friend.
Then there were the times when I was so depressed I could barely move, save to wipe a single tear off my cheek, and even then, sometimes, I just didn’t care. The little things made this emotion come out too.
At times, I believed myself to be a manic depressive, or even borderline. I think I still believe this to be true at times. There is a roller coaster of emotions racking my brain. It will always be there, and it will never stop. I keep thinking that if I shake my head hard enough, it will derail. I could be placid and stable, but does hope ever really prevail?
I recently saw someone whom I hold very close to me. I held him as he slept, and looked into his beautiful green eyes more times than I could ever begin to count. He told me I have ‘witch’s eyes’, and I laughed. I caused him to be two and a half hours late for work, and he didn’t care. He introduced me to his friends as his girlfriend, and I smiled. I read a letter that he had written me, and I almost cried. Granted I was drunk when I read it. I wish there were words that even existed to describe how much I love him. Let’s just say I love him “THIS MUCH” and be done with it. He is my everything.
“It’s shitty outside, but you’re my sunshine.” It’s true. It rained, and it was cold and windy. We spent the majority of my time there inside, except when I got drunk with his friends, while he was at work, and we went walking around in the rain. The walk was mostly silent – and rather pointless – but I will always remember it, because I was missing him. He woke me up the next morning with a hug and a kiss. I am eternally grateful to whatever force brought me to him.
When the cool April breeze dances through my hair, inspiration seems to strike me, yet, I couldn’t say what it inspires me to do.