The entire day has plagued me with this troubling pain just behind my temples. I think I’ve been staring at screens far too long; the back-lit kind with the pixels. My work at the library demands high attention to pixels as I carefully photoshop the bad spots on images. Five hours straight of that and two days in a row ought to explain the pain that is the migraine. However, I’m not convinced. I haven’t felt myself in quite some time now.
Friday is a glorious weekday in that I get paid. I almost immediately have errands to attend to at week’s end, and this week proved no different. So I set to work picking up some necessities after that library gig which left me with a terrible migraine was through. I wandered around a pet store and a specialty grocer and the supermarket in total. I had ensured there was food in my belly beforehand, and as I walked down aisle after aisle of delectable food items I was struck by just how much I didn’t care. I looked at the scrumptious things before me and thought of my budget and then thought of my needs and concluded I didn’t know what I was doing. So I wandered aimlessly a while more. I felt on the verge of tears, flooded by memories of my friend and I as I was. There were couples picking out cheese at the dairy counter and grabbing alcoholic beverages for the weekend. I couldn’t stand it. I felt so sad, because I’ve not had that true couple experience in years. And what I might have considered couple behavior was always a lie. So naturally I blamed my apparent inferiority and tried to move on and make some good of the effort I expended to get to the store. I set my mind to a few projects. No one likes a hopeless girl.
It hardly helps any that I tried to have a casual sexual encounter just before this. I like to think fuck buddies can be a viable thing, but more and more I think it’s just the lying cherry on top of the sundae of lies. It didn’t go as planned and the guy bailed as he always does. Leaving me for better things; things that suit him more. I can hardly blame him.
I want to believe it is the migraine that’s getting to me. I don’t like to throw pity parties where the cake is a lie. I’m doing just fine.
I’ve just got a migraine. It’ll go away in time.
Where were we?
Ah, yes, we last reported in early spring. Alas, spring has sprung past. Summer flew by, and I never took a moment to write. Now that autumn is beckoning once more, I find myself compelled to return. My heart was singing such a joyful tune all of those pages ago in the things I thought but never wrote. I thought I was in love. Fast forward to this moment, and I’ve spent the better part of my evening arguing with figments of digital beings; the whims and opinions of those who do not matter and those who are not here. I’m bitter now. I grow more bitter and unhappy with each passing day of starvation both physical and emotional. I feel a husk of what I once was, like the corn fields shriveling at the first frost, having dropped their fruits long ago. The flame inside me stirs only for controversy and for burning bridges. It’s all consuming and it wants to eat up everything that no longer matters. It wants to eat my soul.
Admittedly, my faith in humanity has taken a dip in recent months. The nightmare began with the news of anti-abortionists and their found footage. This so-called truth appeased those who wanted to hear the sins of women holding the reigns of their sexuality, and women specifically who “murder children.” I saw little merit in the accusations. My best friend had heard what he wanted to hear, because it aligned with his understanding. His understanding which is so opposite to my own. I cringe now, remembering all at once the blissful moments which have become tarnished by the flickering flames. It wants to eat those, too. It wants to eat my memories.
Now I lie awake at night, uncomfortable and unhappy. It has been hours since anyone reached out to me. My beloved cat has napped the night away, his fur fluffed in semi-sickly fashion. I’m tired too, but I cannot sleep and it haunts me. I’m burning up inside. There are but ashes left for my academics and my animals and myself. I want to eat something warm and buttery and feel the warmth of my mother’s touch and reassurance as I sob into my leftovers. I want to be whole again. I want to feel fulfilled. As time has lurched forward, I realize I’m truly alone. I have come further and further to the conclusion that my life is insignificant. Of course it is; we’re all insignificant. We’re all replaceable, our mothers just don’t want to say that because firstly, they truly don’t, and secondly, it’s a fact of life that can destroy all will to survive. I know at this hour, as the flames hunger for more, I wonder what more I can give. I wonder when I pass what it will have mattered to him or to anyone or anything. Eons from now, individuals become specs and nothingness. Tomorrow, I have to ground myself and rebuild from the ashes and rise again as the phoenix of mythology. Perhaps it belongs in myth, that grand rebirthing bird I scarcely relate to. Maybe I cannot do this. Alas, the alternative makes little sense either. I can only lurch forward as time surely does. I can only meagerly attempt to put out the flames that want to take my tomorrow, too. Lest they do.
Remember. I once saw a future in you.