So I have two simultaneous tracks of thoughts running right now and they go like this
But with different inflections
On the one hand the job I thought I had is vanishing faster than sand in a windstorm. I might as well be standing on the tarmac as it goes flying by while the pilot Shouts, “No really, I have nothing to hide.” Which, as we all know is code for, I have things to hide. And the more it’s repeated, the more we know that the thing you’re hiding is deep and dark.
And on the other hand, I’m excited and anticipatory but apprehensive too. Because, I know it’ll go OK but I also know that I tend to go silent when I’m nervous and when there’s nothing to lose, I’m on top of the world but then I start thinking, and that churn begins. That overthinking and the litany of failure and all my friends saying that’s great but I don’t want you to get hurt and I smile and say I understand when I just want to say too late.
It’ll be fine right?
My life isn’t a pointless series of days where people I love leave me and I’m way too much for anyone, everyone else. My dad’s fine and it’s probably not cancer and even though he’s gotten more conservative than sane Republicans, I’m not ready to lose him.
Did I say 2 tracks?
I must have lost count.
Waking before the dawn can make the nights feel shorter. But those quiet hours before sunrise always feel like a gift. Getting up and making coffee. Watching Tara snuggle into the warm spot I just vacated. Watching Sara pull Tara to her. These unconscious movements echoed in sleepy waking smiles and soft kisses.
Sara moves her hands under the cover, the arch of Tara’s back showing the results of her touch. I watch their kisses and caresses for a minute. Drinking in their lust and love for each other. It leaps my heart to see my girls happy and safe.
I softly walk to the nightstand and place a insulated mug of coffee for Sara and a twin of that mug with hot cocoa for Tara onto the night stand. I know Sara hears me but her mouth is otherwise occupied with Tara’s. I walk to the shower and close the door softly. The heat of the water slams into me. Sluicing away that gritty tightness of my skin. Feeling the heat soothe away the pains of a hard life gone soft.
I take my time. Lathering with lemon peppermint soap, the smell evoking sun and winter chill. When the heat is almost dizzying, I turn off the water. The steam curls in the eddies of the air conditioner.
Jen texts, All is ready.
So, the project Girls day out is a go. Jen will pick up Tara in 2 hours and they will go shopping. Stereotypes aside, Tara likes spending time with Jen and anytime she can be out in the world and feel safe is to be encouraged. Plus, I need some time with my wife. I never appreciated the freedom we had until it was curtailed.
I have described to Sara the utterly depraved acts of love I was going to visit upon her body today. She is completely psyched up for pain and torture.
So, of course, we’ll be going in a different direction.
I hear through the hot mist, the warbling tea kettle cry of Tara as she screams her orgasms through the bedroom. I smile dark and bright. My girls.
It should be a good day.
The hell of my heart is that even when they walk away
Even if they crush my heart and sprinkle it bloody in the thorns of rosebushes
I still love them
Would still protect them
Even if they hate me
Believing whatever is in their hearts that makes it easy to stay away
My love is my destruction
As ever it was
Down the long skein
From beginning to end
It is with a sad heart that I post this
I started Nightmares are also dreams with the intention that I would write a different kind of Pel and Sara story. But what I’ve found is something I knew from before but didn’t want to believe. I don’t know how to write a detective story. And this story is very much a detective story. Tracking down clues and hunting down leads and putting the pieces together. That’s not how Pel thinks. Not how I think.
Pel would have his people do the piecing. In full acknowledgement that he isn’t good at that kind of thing. Understanding how the pieces fit together, yes. Finding those pieces, no.
So. This story is going to pivot. Away from the detective plot, and more towards the romance between our 3 main characters. The progress on the detective work will intrude as the timeline will be extended past the single day I’ve written prior.
But it won’t be the focus. I have ideas and plans that come to mind even as I write about this pivot. That’s a good thing.
I hope you all will bear with me as I pivot.
I keep waking up
Can’t tell if it’s the waking that’s the problem
Or the songs playing in my head
About being as in love with you as I am
Or declaiming that I’m the freak of the fall
No words for the possible
Those roads all look so promising before you walk them
Wish I could just enjoy the journey
When I’m in it
I know too many endings
Like pain that echos back from the future
As if pain can cross space/time
Finding a way to me before it happens
Friend tells me I’m kind not sweet
Finally a truth I can accept
Say I’m a shameless flirt
Not out of aimless play
But my heart tries
Even when my mind can’t see
Can’t help who I am
Even when who I am keeps falling in love
And coming out the other side
Charred and broken
I think I’ve gotten to the point where I’m just used to the chaos that my life seems to devolve into.
That or I’m numb or insulated.
My highs are so full of promise and hope.
My lows so full of pain and despair.
But I ride the waves
Sometimes drowning, yes
When I have invested myself in a future that isn’t going to happen
Sometimes delirious with joy
When I have invested myself in a future that isn’t going to happen
But mostly, they are just days passing
I want that more of the horizon
Reaching out has burned me though
So I wait
Thinking in my cave
Watching the sky in hope of rain
My playlist sings of loss
Pull up favorites
Spin the wheel
Dance in hopes dashed reverie
Shuffle foretells misery
Like it reads my heart
Empty suffused darkness
Distilled in smoke stained notes
Each record clicks in place
In modern sacrifice
Mired in the present
Like a maze with no exit
And blood drenched wrong turns
Dead ends decorated by bones
A hole inside that cannot be filled by me alone
I need other voices to speak
To be the ones I think of
To want my voice
I’ve tried the being alone thing
A ghost haunting my life
Just one step after another
An endless series of days
Only through other eyes do I see
Only through others am I whole
A fatal flaw
A design element out of wack
Or just compassion run amok
It’s never as simple as we need it
And I’ve never been an easy man
Tired of these endless days
I almost wish that my emotions didn’t run so hot.
That they didn’t rush like tsunami. Seemingly dry and nonexistent as the waters pull back, until they rush forward, overwhelming my heart. It seems like I only find those unavailable to me as people who make my heart burst like fire. But it’s not true. It’s just that those who are unavailable are often the only ones who show any interest in me. At least in a way that I recognize as interest. I can be obtuse in this regard.
I don’t know. I dislike not knowing. I love to know everything. How else will I see true if I cannot see all?
I wish I knew. Whatever paths led where. Even in general. Because I can’t trust my judgment. My judgment leads me to love and to breaking.
You know…I didn’t pick Morgan. She picked me.
It makes me wonder. Because every time I trust my judgment, while they don’t destroy me in harder ways, I’m still devastated. When it ends. When it fails.
I don’t know the way forward.
knives rip my esophageal lining
Blood coughs up
Weakness steals over me
Pain so rough
Body won’t give up when my heart breaks
Nausea has me looking for a bucket
All light and kind drain
Let me die
There’s nothing left