Monday, May 5, 2003: Morning.

Dawn’s fingers gently cross the sky
æBloody hell. A glance at the clock assures me that it is nearing the time
when I need to rise from the close slumber that I thrive on. Time to wake,
time to go, and never mind how I feel. Work, sleep, eat, breathe; forget
the pain, forget you.

æCigarette burns. It’s funny how I don’t remember taking it from the small
case and lighting with the silver lighter. A gift, a present, a memory from
you. When did I light up? I take a drag, blow smoke. Smolder. Burn.
This haze of blue enthralls me. You wouldn’t appreciate me smoking. At one
time you would have told me you loved me and you wanted to me stop. Stop,
don’t, please. I take a drag, blow smoke. The simple cigarette smolders,
but no longer burns.

Sunlight flints through the window, a simple beauty
æWater. Painfully hot. Long hair pushed back from my face. Completely
naked, completely alone. You left me, flailing and grasping for anything
that would stop me from falling. Barely alive, barely surviving, and not
wanting to live.

æYou don’t understand. Or, perhaps, I don’t understand you. Or myself.
You, me, us, them. I’m still not sure I do. Towel, dry, dress. Clean.
Not trace of cigarettes, no trace of pain. Nothing but this cool calm, a
mask of self-control. Or is it self-preservation? You ran like hell’s own
hounds were after you. Was I really that bad? Were you too perfect, too
cultured, too educated for me? I am only what I am.

Rays dance through the room. Sunlight, warm and beautiful.
æOpen shutters, open window. And this seemingly perfect morning floats into
my world. Or am I her world, and she my princess of all that is pure and
simple? You were, you know. You were my perfection, you were my life.
Life, love, hope, faith. So futile we are without hope. Without love.

æI dress in a flawlessly tailored suit. Black, night, intense. And I am
changed, so completely different. I wear a mask, I falsify my name, my
being. And I haven’t hope.

 
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