Nibbles

unreal

i came here because i don’t know where else to go. some place that i can pour out my heart and be true. i feel bad because brian is hurting, but its so hard to comfort him. he told me that i’m selfish, and he’s right. i am broken, and the more that night is dragged out over and over again in my head the more i fall apart into tiny fractions of frisures of shards of soul. as i see myself from brian’s eyes i must wonder do i even have a soul? seeing the images in my head i hate myself for being so broken. for sitting there and taking it. for being fearful. he pulled my hair and yanked my head back. any cry trying to escape was trapped in my throat as it closed from the angle. i thought of veronica in that moment, and i felt sorry for her. other than that i remember legs. what a strange and literally disembodied memory. i don’t know why, but i distinctly remember three times. i guess i could be wrong, i guess it could be that it was one instance, and just three moments of clarity, but i really don’t think so. i wonder how it is that i could have lain there, freezing, in a bed soaked nearly edge-to-edge in urine.

yeah, so it’s all a little unreal to me. i can’t quite grasp everything. i can’t piece it together to understand how it is that i ended up here. it seems so long ago that i was happy, that life was good, we were solid and stable and meant-to-be. then the next day it was over. but i don’t have to recount that, the heartbreak is written out in my previous entries.

i just keep going over it again and again. i feel so stupid. i had been so happy. happy relatively speaking. i was so happy because brian had to have sent him to check on me, to ask me out. i was happy to be going out. i was happy because it meant brian was thinking of me. i texted him as i was driving there “where is my lemon drop martini”. i don’t remember if there was one waiting on me or not, but that’s what i drank. i don’t know how many, i don’t remember what else. i remember him protecting me from the other guys when they started pushing too much. or at least that’s how it seemed to me. i thought i was safe. i thought it was a good night. i think i beat him in pool. i remember that it was a good night. i remember being hopeful about us. i wasn’t boring, and he’d tell you that we had fun. there was hope. it seems to me that i was looking forward to going home. to climb into my bed. i announced i was leaving and headed out the door. he followed, and then his friend. they said i shouldn’t drive home. i resisted, i wanted to be home. as i told reed tonight, i had a secret dream that maybe you’d show up, or be waiting on me. but i relented. i knew you’d be happier that i didn’t drive.

i just thinking of how i thought i was safe. i asked for pajamas. i crawled into bed. i couldn’t tell you whether or not he was there. whether or not he was asleep. i felt safe. i was safe. and then there was the nightmare. i cried. in the morning i woke alone. i dressed. i went home.

i showered and i cried. i picked up the pieces, and i carried on. what choice do i have than to be okay?

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