I made a Facebook event and used this as the banner.
reallifeoninstagram asked me to be a part of their blog.The only consistent thing about my life over the last three years has been the diaries I carry 24/7. They hold my ups and downs, loves, adventures, Scrabble scores, poems, doodles, and words to look up. Their back pockets double as my wallet. These books are me, I’m amazed I’ve kept them for so long.
Hospital, yes. I hit my knee on my car with enough force to make me mutter profanities; I think that, in combination with eating little substantial breakfast, made me faint at Community Bakery while in line to buy lunch. I fell flat on my back, and my head made a decided thunk. I was out for something like 10 to 60 seconds. So, with a kind man’s jacket under my head and a damp rag smelling of mold on my forehead, the EMT’s looked me over, then put me in their ambulance where they discovered my heart beat was very much irregular, and took me to the hospital for three-ish hours. The doctors think I was dehydrated, which is confusing because I drink boat loads of the water. Now I’ll have one hell of a medical bill for being light headed and my knee is still bleeding.
And guess who got to talk with Rick?
Until then, I’ll just keep bein’ me.
Something happened to me, someone came into my life. And she left almost as fast.
It was August, early. A Wednesday, it was late - late enough to technically be a Thursday morning. Very late, 4AM if memory serves me right; which it always has and will until death.
A thought came over me, present company spawned this idea. She was a blessing in persona. An angel, an angel in my car who was kissing me at 4 in the morning.
Feelings can be put into words, but not properly. The translation from emotion to my diction would fail theatrically. But for her it’s worth a shot: she is as perfect as iced water, blessed as stretching out on a cold tile floor in the middle summer, and as pleasurable as her legs are smooth. She gave me the confidence that only a woman holding my hand can offer. She made me want to do things like dance, and sing, and laugh.
Those things were all done for two weeks straight. Two weeks of fun and a monumental crush. Two weeks of heaven, wonderful times, late nights, and contentment.
Then, out of the blue, she split. She left. Dropped off the face of my world. Didn’t talk to me. Didn’t want me it seemed. She ignored me. She made it clear that this thing we had going was more important to me than it was to her
Hands haven’t been held, songs haven’t been sung, lips haven’t been kissed. Words haven’t been exchanged, faces haven’t been seen, laughs haven’t been shared. And my mind is ramblin’, racin’, jumpin’, hopin’, prayin’, and wanting her to desire to be in my hand, on my lips, and in my lonely life.
And as much time that has been spent thinking of her - twice daily since we met - and how much she caused me to hurt; there is nothing possessable or tangible to show for it. Not a thing, save for my throat stuffed with my heart.