...little story...

“Are you drunk?” He asks, squinting his eyes and peering into my eyes.. my soul.
Why? What would it matter tyo you? Does it make me less of a person that I cannot seem to chill with a friend wihtout a drink? Do you want me to be drunk? Will that make it easier for you to put your moves on me? Don’t jusdge me.
“No!” I protest, wrapping my arms around myself tring to deflect his gaze.
“Okay, well I’m going to pour myself a drink” He causually turned around and saunters into the kitchen.
I hear bottles open, glasses set down, lids twisting, ice clinking, liquid poured, doors shut. I lean back and let myself sink into the couch lost on a trian of thought. What am I doing here? How did I get myself in this situation? Its been over 7 years. I felt nothing when he leaned towards me. I felt nothing when he started playing with the straps on my tank top. My mind is preoccupied with other pressing matters.
Should I move back to Tuscaloosa? Back to where I went to college and work at the Children’s Museum. Live amongst my friends that are either still in college or stuck in their lives as I am. Live within distance of the only two boyfriends I’ve ever had and that ever openiy cared for and loved me. Should I put myself in that sitiuation where he wonders why I don’t call and then calls me in a fit of drunken built up anger and I have to talk him down. I wish so badly for him that life would be better to him. But hes got to be better to life too…
Should I stay back in Asheville? Land of the hippoes? Land of the free? Amongst the beauty of the East Coast mountains, head shops, dreadlocks, Rainbow Kids, oak trees with their colorful leaves puked onto the floor in a bed of soggy autum colors.. JP-visiing him when he’s off work all the while worrying he’s going to kick me out before its time to go to sleep. Harayz-the inspiration and bright spot in my ife who is now taken by a beautiful girl. Alysa-crazy dynamic18-year old girl with no fear and full of vigor and lives for sexual encouitners of all kinds. My job-Carina and her baby Orlando and everyone that visits me there like Cynthia and sweet German Julius.
Should I drive all across the country with no chance to see either of the 2 people that make me want to stay back? Arive at work mid January working only weekends and some evenings, setting up little shows to teach parents about teachable moments. How folding laundry can teach children to sort colors and patterns and count. Blindly move and find some sort of affordable housing in the Emerald City where everything is so very exspensive. Hope for the best and that I will be able to find another job that will help keep me afloat.
Should I give up on living conventionally? Throw my hands up to society and jump in the car. Fly around the coutnry with no time constraints, no worries, no cares… Meeting all kinds of people in all kinds of places. Tasting life in everty city possible… Become a road gypsy until I’m pleasantly exhausted and delighted with life and every waking moment.

“Here, I made you a drink! My pecial. I know you will love it.” He returns, setting the glass in front of me. The sharp clink of the glass hitting the coffee table makes me jump.
I look up at him and the world blurs as ir ealize in horror that tears threaten to fall.
“Are you okay?” He settles down on the couch next to me. His arms begin to wrap around me as I shoot my arms out for my glass. I gaze into it, enjoying the whirlpool I am creating.
“Yeah.. I;m okay…” I shrug him off and put the glass to my lips and let the sweet liquid flow through me. Yes, I lied. This was my second drink. The first one I poured was not meausred, just slogged together a few things to get my mind off things while he was out helping his neighbor. Yes. I am a liar. He knows. He doesn’t care. He just wants me drunk. Same old same old. I feel him inching closer again.
“HEY! Guess what I bought the other day!” I explaim as I jump up form the couch. I run over to my bag and fish around for my Nerf Dart Gun. Before he even knew what was going on, I squeezed the trigger and let out a shot.
BANG..
I see him crumple into the couch and realize my aim was a little too good. RIGHT in the eyeball.
Well.. that will keep him away for awhile. I try to hold in my laughter, but can’t. I explode in uncontrollable laughter. Is that the alcohol laughing? Or me?
“I’m sorrY! I totally did NOT mean to get your eyeball!” I manage between my giggles. “You can take a shot at me if you want. You can hate me if you want.”
“No.. no.. I;m fine.. just give me a minute..” He gasps out as he struggles to open his eye that seems to be ever reddiening.
I still cant seem to stop laughing. I inch forward towards my drink, hoping that will quiet me. Somehow I manage to run into the light swtich and the room goes awash in darkness. My first reaction is that my LASIK surgery failed.. even though I had it done a good while ago. I can’t see a thing except blobs. The window stands clear on the other side of the room. Outside I can see the naked trees being weighed down with a 4 inch coat of snow. Immediately I turn away as I start seeing monsters and faces peering in. I stumble forward and manage to reach my drink and take another gulp. I close my eyes hoping that when I open them I will be back in Asheville.
I don’t want to be here anymore.
I don’t want this. I don’t want him. I don’t want whats bound to happen. I want what doesn’t want me. I want a job. I want to not be lost anymore. I want..
I rest my cheek on the cold coffee table and close my eyes slighttly as I hear the couch squeaking. He’s getting up. I hear the faint rustle of his pants as he moves around the room. I woonder what he’s doing and faintly remember that it is still only 9 pm. I wish I would have gone with my parents. I wish I would have couchsurfed with someone and not stayed with someone I hadn’t seen in 7 years iand I knew wanted that one thing from me. Empty words that are attempts to make me feel pretty fall flat in my mind. Too many fakers. How do I know when they mean what they say?
I recall the bed is upstairs and felt like a musty oven. I am not going up there. I turn my head toward the window again, hoping the creatures aren’t looking in at me again/
“You owe me now you know…” I hear his voice carry though my thoughts. He sounds so far away. “C’mon, get up here. Don’t sit on the floor. How can that be comfortable?”
“I’m good. I’m good. I like the veiw from here. I can see the stains on your couch. But don’t make me look out that window” I mumble, probably incoherantly.
I hear his cackle of laughter beyond the misty world around me. Why does he sound so far away?
Once again I hear the rustle of clothes and fel a rush of air and realize he is now right next to me.
“Come on, you’re tired. Let me take you upstairs.” He begins to wrap his arms around me.
“No! No, I’m not tired.” I wriggle away from him. “Lets play Scrabble/”
More laughter.
“I’m not trying to be funny. I WANT to play scrabble.” I pout.
“I may have that up in my room.” He replies.
Without thinking things through, I believe him. I grasp the handrail as I head upstairs. Each step seems heavier and harder to climb. I feel his fingers on the small of my back pushing me along. I realize he lied. There is no Scrabble board up there. I know I cant go back. I’m not a fighter.
I don’t want to want anymore. If I could make one wish, it would be that I wouldn’t have to wish anymore.





Song for the moment.. “Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots” Flaming Lips