My life shattered, my love, my soul, all flaked off into tiny shards and shattered as it burst silently, massively. The world has burst with me, though, it seems. And my car, my ever-trusty steed, Ruby, my refuge and my savior--the one who helps me run away (well that's what people say I do, anyway)–she was shattered too the other day. And a woman in Kroger came and prayed for me but didn't know a thing and so she prayed for only one nice thing and left the rest to suffer.
I have realized how much my life-whatever it is-can move about here. Things no longer feel stagnant, I am constantly going and creating. My housemate would tell you I am a rare sight in our home, especially without friends about. But frequently it halts still. As though I'm moving so fast and then I hit the immovable, impenetrable wall and it knocks the fucking wind out of me and I fall down for a little while until I play with the dog and then start chuggin' along again I guess.
But even this movement is quivering as it can see the end so clearly, this time I know the exact day when things will crumble so at least I can worry accordingly.
My closet wall serves as a punching bag and I used it the day after my car windows were bashed in and broken and when my current heartbreaker infiltrated my home. I ran a lot too, wherever my feet could find ground until my little world was covered in ice and then the whole town was littered with glass shards–my inner happenings spread outward, how strange to see such broken reflection.
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| One of the last pictures on my mother's camera. |
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| No attempt at theft, just frustration, it seems. |
How could I have ever believed I knew so much?
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