Country Feels

The change isn’t immediate after we cross the border into Kentucky.  It’s many miles before I notice how the trees brush the skyline for miles around- no tall city buildings to mar it.  There are no power lines or poles.  Katherine explains that most of that stuff is run underground so as not to intrude on the farmland.

We’re on a country road for what seems like forever.  I lose track of time and it takes me a moment to realize when she’s pulled into a long dirt driveway. 
I stare up at the large country house in front of us.  It’s surprisingly nice.  I bite back a nasty pure-Yankee comment. 

It isn’t long before we’re out back.  I start for a steep hill, intending to climb it.  Katherine lets out a low laugh behind me.  I turn.

“I thought we were going hiking?”  I ask.

“Not the Northern, city-Yank way.”  She says teasingly.  I blink as she pulls a tarp off of something the size of a huge dog.

I’ve never seen anything like it before.  It’s not quite a motorcycle, but it isn’t a car either.  It’s rough and badass looking. 

“It’s a four wheeler.”  Katherine says with pride.  I roll my eyes, misunderstanding.

“I can see it has four wheels.”

“No, that’s what it’s called.  Also known as an all-terrain-vehicle.  It’s for climbing the hills.  Faster than walking or taking a bike.  Safer too, with how steep they are.”  She dangles the keys at me before sitting on it and smoothly starting it.  It’s louder than a car, but we only have to talk slightly above normal volume.

“It doesn’t look like its intended for more than one person….” I mutter.  She trills another laugh.

“Technically it’s not.  But come on; I thought you came down here to live a little!  Stop being all safe and boring in your world of offices, desks, and four walls.  Welcome to Kentucky.  We break the rules, get dirty, and go fast.”  Her smile is contagious and I find myself stepping forward easily.

I never thought I could feel like a bird.  She drives so fast that we lift off the ground at times.  Part of me is terrified and starts to tell her to slow down.

But my eyes lift and look around the expanse of forest that sprawls in all directions.  The trees tickle the sky as the wind plays with my hair.  I don’t even regret not pulling it back. 

Katherine pauses at the top of one of the largest hills.  She turns the monster off and we both automatically adjust our breathing so it is practically silent.

There’s a valley below us, full of purple flowers.  I know I should know their name (Mom would be disappointed), but I can’t see to quite reach that mind or knowledge that was my “Yankee self”. 

I’m too busy soaking in and gulping down this new knowledge.  This beautiful experience of nature for which there are no words.  Only sensations.  Feelings.

That teasing tug on my hair the wind does.  I’ve never had anyone play with my hair and it makes me smile that the wind down in this beautiful place knows of my secret desire for it.

The slight scratches on my arms from snagging branches and thorny bushes on our ride.  It’s my fault for wearing a tank top.  Katherine smartly wore long sleeves.

I suck in a breath and it feels so cool, so clean.  Nothing like this air in the city.  I know that.  Nothing like these smells.  The forest is alive with plants, animals.  Life.

I look at Katherine and she meets my gaze.

“Let’s just come live up here.”  I say seriously.  She smiles softly, knowing that she has been perfectly successful in showing me exactly what she loves about being a country girl.

“Forever. Just us.  We won’t tell anyone.” She replies, just as serious. 

I wrap that fantasy up neatly in a box.  I know it’s a lie.  Obviously we can’t just run away and live here.

But is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.

I tuck the box carefully away in my mind.  Protected.  Safe.  The lock is complicated so that it can’t just be tossed away.

It is thrown, nicked, burned, and scratched at throughout the next couple years.  There are many things that are not remotely romantic, damaging, hurtful things that Katherine does that has insiders trying everything to get rid of that box.  They want no reminders of the good.  None.

But boxes are my specialty.

It is such a beautiful fantasy.

Such a beautiful place.

Can it really be that harmful?

Letter to Army

(Note: trigger warning for self-harm and dark thoughts)

Dear Army,

I don’t need you.

I don’t need these feelings of helplessness.  I don’t need this terrified semi-triggered state where I curl into a ball in my bed at 6pm and wish wish wish sleep would claim me. 

I don’t need to dream of you.

I don’t need to start compulsively keeping that bottle of sleeping pills on my nightstand again.  I don’t need to reach for them when a mere hour has passed without sleep.

I certainly don’t need to take two. Or three. Each day adding one more because, hey; they don’t ‘effin work anyway. 

I don’t need to have the blade ready.  I don’t need to toss a promise made in a moment of delusion when I thought I had actual courage and strength. What a silly idea. A stupid idea.

I don’t need to be in charge of the beautiful life of a perfect and devoted dog who only gives love and acceptance and doesn’t see me as the broken shell of a person I am.

I don’t need to think about those days when I was dependant on a whole other person. Those days I didn’t have a thought of silver blades and sweet aching hunger sated by putting a cigarette to my lips and inhaling to see the sweet sparkles behind my eyes (way better than food anyway).
I don’t need to remember that it was so easy to fall into being the other half of someone’s soul. A soul that can be ripped out and grown again because I am silly and stupid and not important and codependency is a real problem. Why can’t I learn that and that I better learn it because I am a wounded bird and she’s so done being my white knight.

I don’t need reminded of my joy in “being domestic” and having meals ready, a house to clean, laundry to do. I don’t need to be reminded of the loss that you don’t give a damn about that may have robbed me from my heartfelt desire of being a mother.

I don’t need you to be the first person I think about telling when I have something happy- sad- scary- funny- happen to me. I don’t need to start daydreaming about a day where you’ll want me to be domestic for you and you’ll say I’m yours and yours alone and the thought of being without me physically pains you. 

I don’t need support because a lady is to stand alone and face the world as just me because a lady is strong, silent, and doesn’t ever complain. A lady can go through life with that mask always firmly in place. A lady never ever shows the world pain or fear.

I don’t need.

I don’t need.

Ever.

All the love in my heart that is crushing me (killing me),
Pen

A Lesson in Feelings

This whole past weekend has been a lesson in how I really feeling about various things.

Let’s go by topic to keep things simple and readable for your lovely persons.

Housing
Well, the rental app didn’t get approve.  The letter of explanation they supposedly wrote and attached to our email was corrupted when we got it and now we can’t get them to give us a straight answer.  But this makes Mom and I just think there’s something fishy going on.  Whatever.  There will be other opportunities.  I was surprised at how easily I shrugged this off, though I suppose it’s because of other things I’ve had to worry about this weekend.

The Past
After the last post where Daria got triggered by Mom writing our childhood address, things got worse before they got better.  I volunteered Friday at an event near that horrible old house, and afterwards while driving back home, someone hijacked the body to drive past that place.
We were all startled to discover that the house was not torn down by McD’s.  It was right behind their dumpsters.  The backyard.  The tiny garage/shed with the slate blue paint.
Stupid Memory Lane.  I lost almost 2 hours that night.  I’m not sure if it was all spent just parked by that house, rocking back and forth in misery or if we went somewhere else.  I only remember a glimpse of the house, then I was back home letting Zoe outside, 2 hours after I’d left the event (only a 20 minute drive away).
I hope the dark thoughts are behind us.

Army
We almost broke up Saturday night.  Technically we did break up for about 40 minutes.
He was supposed to do something with me Saturday, and I didn’t hear from him until 8 or 9pm.  When I asked for an explanation, it was that he was “sleeping”.  Then he asked “Are you mad?”.
Hell yes, I was mad.  I told him too.  And I explained that he needed to see it from my perspective.  This is the third time he’d flaked on me in two weeks.  I didn’t feel important at all.  Then he made some vague sort of promise to “make it up to me”.
I told him I wasn’t sure if I could do it anymore.  Be with him if he was just going to be all flakey and make vague promises.  To which he replied “I’ll just leave you alone then”.
I was floored.
And what surprised me more was my utter sadness over the whole thing.  I literally sobbed for a good half hour, trying to talk to Texas about the matter.
I didn’t realize that I was in that deep.  I’ve never cared before.  When we parted ways a couple months ago, I didn’t bat an eyelash.
What’s different now?
Anyway, he texted me back about 40 minutes later and asked that I explain further because he thought our relationship was too important to just forget about.  I poured my heart out- well, sort of.  I always hold back a bit. Especially lately.  He then said he really didn’t want to lose me and that he cared too much about me.  And then Sunday, he took me out for lunch, ice cream, on a walk, and to the dog park with Zoe.  It was great.  We talked and it was…amazing.  I’m terrified about this whole thing.  I’m not sure if I can put myself on the line like that again.  I haven’t even tried since Katherine.  I don’t know…

Germany
She emailed me again.  It was a hurtful email.  I can’t even get into here because I’ll just start crying again.  Basically, she doesn’t want to be friends if I can’t admit that I’m a “manipulative, compulsive liar” and seek therapy for it.  I was nothing but honest about the situation with Jeff.  I didn’t paint a pretty picture with me as some hurting damsel.  I stated plainly that he was the wronged party and I regretted it.  But she said because I spoke so “flat-toned and simply” that I must be looking for “validation” about being the wronged party.  I don’t understand.  My heart hurts over this whole matter.  This is my best friend for over a decade.  She’s always been there for me.  Always.
Why this?  Why does she have such blinders when it comes to Jeff?  I’m not asking for her to “take my side”.  I don’t want that at all.  I don’t want sides.  I’ve said that from the beginning.  I don’t even want to talk about the situation at all.
I just want to be able to talk to my friend.
I am heartbroken.

A shudder and a whisper

why did she show us the paper she filled out?

why did we zoom in on a previous address she put down. the third one down. has Mother only lived in 2 places since that place?

we never knew the name of the street it all started on.

hide and seek. hide and seek.

oak grove lane.

a tree? but trees are safe. i like trees. i like to climb them and hide. He doesn’t climb.
i learned that fast.

why why why why did it have to be a safe name for that street?  that street wasn’t safe.  it should have been…
highway to hell road
full of demons drive
childhood lost forever avenue

i didn’t wanna know.  none of us wanted to know.  it needs to be erased.

at least it’s now a mcdonald’s.  the house doesn’t exist.

but the house was never the badpart.

hide and seek is an outside game.

outside.

with trees.

Backslide

And we were doing so fucking well.

They’d even exchanged messages with goddamn Katherine last week- no problem. Talked about mundane nothingness. She didn’t fucking touch us mentally.

Tonight…

Goddamn disaster.  Some idiot decided to fucking talk to her about the indecisive bullshit about Army. Shit went sideways in two ways.

First of all, Katherine’s all fucking weird about hearing it. I guess because of the fucking ex factor or some shit. And then telling her shit about what they consider desirable in a relationship just turned shit all to hell because she decided to drop bombs like “Oh, you mean like us?” or “Like I used to do?”.

Fucking hell.

And so Claire’s doing her schizo act again, talking to an invisible Audrey. Middi and Char are chain smoking (inside the head- the body doesn’t need that shit right now) and Armes is practically fucking catatonic.

This is too fucking far.

Shit needs to change.