I fell down the stairs. That’s because she didn’t want me talking to her through the bathroom door. When I finally realized that’s what she wanted I took a few steps backwards and the second floor didn’t end where I thought it did.
Mark asked me if I was serious earlier when I said that his house was so small I felt like I could break it. We all laughed. Well, nothing can contain me. I’m going to come back in the morning—I can’t sleep there—to fix the plaster.
On the couch I thought it was her that came back and I had my hand running through her hair and she didn’t stop me. It was when I pulled her onto my lap that Amira got up and pushed the two of us into separate directions. We were both so confused. I still don’t know who that was. I’ll probably find out in the morning.
She was taking so long that I went outside to have a cigarette, only I don’t smoke, except when I’m like this. No one wanted to give me one. But it didn’t take long to wear them down. Once I had it lit I laughed and laughed. I tried to listen to what they were talking about, but what do smokers ever say when they’re alone in the night?
I tried to remember where the party was.
I thought it might be funny if I went to the park. There I stumbled awkwardly reciting jokes to myself in case anyone thought to hear. Underneath the slide tracing my fingers around the cuts scratched by teenagers someone remembered to call me.
“Where are you?” they asked. “Helen’s looking for you.”
That was enough. I lurched out from underneath banging my head on something and brushing off all of the stray weeds and sand.
The night was so endless I thought that I should sit down and try to prepare myself. So I found a swing and began to pump it up and down.
They keep calling me but my phone fell out some time ago and the night is so nice and so young and so warm—warmer than I can ever remember for this time of the year—and I don’t want to leave, not just yet at least.
Tonight’s going to be the greatest night of my life.
An entire month went by without updates–what gives?
We have disconnected the internet at home. Otherwise I am writing, but writing things that may not necessarily be the kinds of things that belong here. Either they’re too long or they’re too personal, or they’re too angry.
I’ve been meaning to address the blog on this issue for a long time.
I am not done here. It is better to return.
There were some difficult months and in those months the difficulty moved inside. I keep dreaming about my family dog, who was recently eaten by coyotes. That has not been the only death. But it is the death that I dream about.