Thursday, December 4, 2008

A Saturday Telephone Conversation: Spring 2006

Nye Hall: University of Nevada, Reno


I look out the window facing Argenta hall...
The sun shining on my face along with the notion of the world being wide-awake is all I feel.I spoke to him today.
He feels my pain, and I miss times like this so dearly.
I see the confusion in his eyes so clearly.
He begs me not to cry..."I'll get mad", he says.
He rules with an iron fist, and that is all I remember. I preach and pour my angst out to him.
"I'm a good kid. Do you trust that?”
He says, "Of course, I always have."
Oh how I miss his 41 year old soul...I see it less and less frequently, and it's the times where I am honored with his rare presence that I feel composed.
I'm not going to make it here...I don’t feel any serenity. Nobody interesting, nothing fulfilling.... just fakeness.
He says to me..."Maybe it's you who needs to change."
I know, and I've been dealt with the same predicament since he left when I was almost of legal age.
I know I need to be different, but I just don’t know how and where to start.
I'm so fucked up, and it's all the fault of the man who has the audacity to tell me to change.
I close my eyes, I see through the blinds of the shattered window of my broken home.
I see him walk into my room, that sweet summer day...a few days before I began the last year of torment in that hell hole that kept me captive for 4 fucking years of my misfortunate existence.
He sat on my bed...and as the tears fell down my face listening to "Drive" by my Ric Ocasek and the Cars, he said that he was done and that he couldn’t do it anymore... he left 2 days later.
"Let go your heart, let go your head"...He has forever left me repeatedly, and when shit gets hard I still run to him, but I cant anymore...but nothing, not even my intense hatred will make me stop doing so.
"Please forgive me, cause I know not what I do...Like a stone I fall in your eyes, deep into that mystery. I get half a mile to scream out loud, I get half a mile to die."
That cold, harsh fall has been every tomorrow that's turned into the past.
Aba, ani metta alechah...
The past is away from my sight, but forever in the cold, dead spirit that I have become.
Thank you for nothing....
It’s everything that's made me into the pale little girl with the I.V in her arm that you left out to rot.
and I still love you.

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