When you reach the bottom of bottomless pits
Truth and lies become opposites
Coming up for air before I'm swallowed whole by the blackness. Something happened to break my lies so it's back to all tears and nightmares and a coldness deeper than space itself. The dream of meeting and talking to Emily finally happened. But, of course, for me it was a nightmare because those few minutes were stolen ones, when she didn't know who I was.
But she was great and I was feeling it and totally digging her as I thought I would even though I was putting on the breaks because I knew it couldn't last. Ecstasy and agony at the same time. I wanted to spend hours with her enjoying her company. I was getting sucked in.
While talking I debated coming clean. So I did - as much as my nerve held out. I told her I knew her name. I told her I knew her from a long time ago. I was too scared to mention exactly where or I'd have my head taken off permanently with extreme prejudice. With every question she chopped down my nerve. Finally, I said, "It was ten years ago." I thought that would be a dead giveaway.
Slowly, the wheels began to turn in that intelligent mind of hers. You cannot imagine the terror I began to feel. I wanted to hug and be hugged by her so badly. Then she started asking what I was doing in her neighborhood. I didn't lie, at least, but obviously she figured out I was only there because she lived there. She turned her back to me walking away, saying I shouldn't be driving around someplace where I didn't have any business. I wanted to die on the spot.
I tried to pretend I was OK walking back to my car, taking a swig from my bone dry water bottle. I couldn't break down and cry on the spot and it was a tortuous hour driving back to my hole where the suicide feelings flooded me like a tidal wave. I couldn't eat and my body was drained. That was Wednesday at 6. It's now Friday at 10 and I've had my first full meal. Even that was forced.
I just want to die. Getting a taste of Emily again triggered all the old feelings of despair. A therapist I went to correctly stated I thought of Emily as a god. Hard to measure up to a god. But that was the first crack in thinking maybe just maybe I could be friends with her after all. I talked to her on blind faith. Ten years of tears. I can't stop the crying. I can't tell anyone about this, they just won't understand. Plus Emily likes her privacy.
I'm faking it just to be writing. When the computer shuts off, the walls close back in as the screams return. I've written at least ten postcards in my mind to send her. I don't know what words to use for her to give me a chance. I can't even drive past her house anymore so I could at least feel proximity to her. I got no job or a way of earning money. All the ropes have reached their end.
I must go. The demons are waiting on me. It's what I get for hurting Emily. But it doesn't make things better or pay my debt to her. I got no freaking idea what does.
Sunday Update: Still can't eat. Not quite as suicidal. Very alone and very afraid.
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