my glass heart
So. It is 2006.
A bright new shiny year.
Full of potential.
In a bright new shiny apartment. No more crazy landlords. No more crazy roommates. Just me. The bed. The desk. I sold off most of the furniture in the enormous storage unit I just about called home. No more storage. Not ever. It is a rule. I alternate between so much relief and just being happy I am here — And black moods. Sad sad black. Partly because I have a cold. Have had a cold for weeks now. This damn cold will not go away. That is not because I smoke either no fresh email lectures I know non-smokers who have had this cold longer. Partly because I am living without animals for the first time in 16 years and that is a strange void that echoes all the time around me. “No life. No life. No life.” It will not go away. And I dream Jones. When I buried him, he made a noise. And I dream he is still alive. I know he was not. I was there when he died. I know that was just air in a body. But I dream he is. Buried in the ground alive. Those are bad dreams. And partly because I gave my heart to a guy. And he promptly shipped it back to me in a slightly used cardboard box. That box is in better shape than my heart. That box is cardboard. Cardboard can take a lot of abuse. Postal workers. Fed ex guys. Stray squirrel attacks. Cardboard will hold up. Not my heart. My heart does not ship so well. I need a better box.
Your Send Better Boxes Adams Girl
where the art work comes from :
that is vulnerability by chaovsky
11 Responses to my glass heart
That’s very sad and very beautiful.
I’m glad I get to be the first to welcome you to the blogosphere, though.
And, um, I just tagged you.
Echoing Pooks, here. Beautifully written, yet it’s not fair that someone so terrific has to deal with heartbreak. Welcome to the blogosphere, and here’s wishing that this is just the beginning of tremendously happy days.
Hey you two. Thanks for stopping by.
[say how stupid will I look if I ask what a tag is?]
Hey Max–
Very odd reading you outside of your website. It’s like the King of Troy leaving his fortress to beg Achilles for Hector’s body.
Okay, you’re not begging for anything… but you know what I’m getting at… I hope.
Anyway, welcome to the Scribosphere!
Jeez. Things did not go so well for the king of Troy. Can I be Helen instead? Oh, wait, things did not turn out so great for her either. Hmm.
Hey Max —
Sorry to hear you’re ill and sad. I’m glad you’re blogging. Looking foward to reading.
Happy New Year! Wishing you health and happiness.
Rob
Wha?
The true pioneer of the screenwriting blog has a blog?
Has everything come full circle?
I mean, it’s almost on par with the Wright brothers getting to fly in a 757 or a space shuttle.
I second Script Weaver’s welcome to the Scribosphere and glad to see that we’ll get to read your musings more than once a month. I also hope that you’ve gotten over your cold.
The cold is better. Thanks.–>
Pingback: prone to randomness « celluloid blonde
Pingback: questions with no answers « celluloid blonde
Pingback: the return of prone to randomness « celluloid blonde