A Journal Entry

Prose Revisited Series #5

Two days ago: My heart surely collapses upon itself right now. Surely, surely. Unlock, click, slide. I open the window of my bedroom to the roof and cold air outside. Despite it being May 11, 2010, it’s rather chilly and feeling more like the winter-spring season border. I wrap myself in a blanket for warmth and security and climb out onto my roof, where I sit as close to the house as possible. The roof is slanted and very high up. This is where I come to feel alive. I feel dead and unthinking—until I step out onto this roof at 1:15 a.m. because I can’t fall asleep. I stare off into the distance, into the trees, which are creaking and swishing at me with the twilight hour winds.

This is where I start to feel alive and hurt and all the pain starts rushing in. My head starts twitching involuntarily, rocking, rocking, twisting left and right slightly. It looks as if I am saying No. I am trying not to feel. I clench my fingers harder onto the fleecy fabric of my blanket. I pull it closer to me, as though it will shield me from feeling, but it cannot and I start to cry. “What have I done? What have I done?”

I call him and not much is said. I can’t say much, but I know that I should call him. It’s what I’m supposed to do, let him know that I’m upset. Do you know why you’re upset. No. Yes. But I can’t tell him that. Well, what are you thinking? I don’t know. I don’t know. The conversation ends in silence and I’m going to bed. Please promise me you’ll go back inside soon and lay down? Okay, I will. It is said without much heart, without much definition behind the words. It is said because it is what I am supposed to say.

End. I hang up after saying goodbye and close my eyes tightly because I feel them coming. I know why I’m upset, I’m starting to think without wanting to, and I know the tears are coming. The wind blows cold on my face, and I open my eyes to tears and a heavy exhale of visible breath.

As the tears start rolling down, and the troubled, heaving breathing starts, I shout out to the woods in the direction of the other house, “I will always love you. Always, always, always, always…” I calm myself. I numb myself. I head inside to the warmth of my bed, where I will lay awake and miserable with only my thoughts to accompany me.

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Love,

Ochwoman

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