svenskaspark
It's a thing, being a Grammar Nazi. For me, it's a hindrance to living daily life. When people miss a letter here or use improper punctuation there... it drives me absolutely bonkers. I mean, let's be serious for a second, did you pass Kindergarten? How hard is it to spell a five letter word or know the difference between a semi-colon and a colon? Dating is impossible for me... things can be going SO WELL... and then text me something like "my love burns for you like a firey furnase" and I cringe enough to reply, "it's 'fiery furnace' and we're done here."
I always knew I was short. It was part of who I was to "walk tall" and "talk tall" like my mother taught me. It's something I've had to do in order to compensate for my so-called "vertical challenge." No one usually notices my short stature as a result.
But he took all that from me. Even from the beginning. In height, in vocal ability, in presence... around him, I became as minuscule as the bones that created my actual structure.
Fabric swatches are all I have left of you. They litter my room like the memories you now litter my brain. When you left, you literally left a whirlwind of your clothes all over my carpet, my bed, my dressers... it's like you made up your mind to leave in a hurry and you couldn't decide what to take and what to leave.
So you left a mess. You left me, and you left a mess.
You left me IN a mess.
You left a mess of me.
"I can't get it in."
"What do you mean you can't get it in?!"
"No, I'm telling you, it won't fit!"
"The hell do you mean it won't fit?"
"I'm trying, but..."
"Didn't they teach you anything in med school?!"
"Well yeah, but there's only so much I can force the damn thing, I'll tear the duct."
"Holy... you DID go to a crap school, they're called arteries, not ducts... This is the last time I help you on a lab... crack a fugging textbook for once, alright?"
Up against a wall... then the other wall. Pinned. Hand above my head, his fingers intertwined with mine. Wrap my leg around his waist. His lips on my neck... Flip around, I push him into the corner, our eyes lock. Now I'm in control. With a flick of my tongue behind his ear, I feel him melt into me. Like I planned, I'm in charge.
You have this feeling every time he walks in a room that something's about to happen. It's part of his DNA... or something to that effect. There's never enough going on to satisfy him. Even if it's something as simple as placing a vase at the edge of a table so it might just break... he's done his job. It's what he does. He's a troublemaker...
Being locked up here gets lonely after a while. Everything down below isn't much more than a series of blips moving across a dark plane. There's only so much creativity I can muster to give those blips a story... it's not very entertaining after a while...
Our entire mission at this institution is to bestow upon you not only the knowledge to pursue your greatest dreams, but the courage to make the correct decisions with proper moral character, and the wherewithal to...
What a load of bullshit.
If there's one thing I'll never forget, it's the smell of her perfume. I'd catch whiffs of it every time she passed by, or when I'd brush up against her neck and hear her inhale sharply... I never understood her obsession with vanilla cake scented perfume... but it'll haunt me now that she's gone.
Begin again. Start from scratch. Give up, find something new. You believed in her once, you will find a new person to put all of your stock into like you did this last one. You've done it once, you can do it again. And again. And again. You are a believer. That's what you do. You believe. If nothing else, nothing at all... you believe.
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writing since 2014 · 13 entries · 13 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Claire showed up.
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the words Claire reaches for
messlivingeyesdonenowmeanlockedmatterhardwhateverbitfingersbelieveperfumeagainstneck