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Monday, January 12, 2009

What is the meat
the middle of the story.
Madness, hardness of life, troubled.
Incandescently happy. Lust. Sweetness.
She is beautiful. Young body. Old Soul.
Except where it's naive. Shy. Outspoken.
Closed. Opened.
He is beautiful. Dark. Shady places under trees.
Soft covering hard edges. Smooth touch. Fire.
Too much. Too soon.
Too arrogantly right.
But right.
Fighting. Fear. Others.
Running. Forced into togetherness.
A unit of opposite poles. Like puzzle pieces.
The loss.
So this is Goodbye.
She is running.
The magic is dead.
He is lost.
Search. For. Her.
She is almost whole again.
A new friend. Good?

small town usa. girl wakes up.

her finger was bleeding again from where she was chewing her hangnails. a bad, old habit. one that she broke just long enough for the skin to heal, making her long-fingered hands and their oval nails almost beautiful. but then their was life again, stressing making her fingers itch, the scratch each other, then before she knw it they were shredded again.

maybe she was some sort of scik canibal.

probbably not.

what was she supposed to write about? there was no great story line in her head. no leads to be chased. they all seemed to have dead ends. no excitement. just blah.

like everthing else in her life.

shw was young. and unmotivated. and full of wanting for things she did not have.

Another dayy. the same as the last. and the next.
when had that happened to her? When had she ssuddenly stopped moving forward? Or had it not been sudden? had she been creeping towards this life for years? inexorably pulled into the exact life she'd denied she'd ever live. A life full of complaceny. She had a husband, a man she whose ins and outs she knew so well they irritated her. They had a house. A boring, often messy house, full of things that reminded her of other times in her life. Better times perhaps. Pictures of adventures, times when stories had been made, memory turned into legend with the tellings. Stories were all she had now, and the ictures she surrouned her self with.
She had had bgi dreams. To be someone. Someone who did something. A mark maker.
Now she was a mediocre maker. A settler. She had settled. And every day it seemed more and more like she had settled for less. Less than she could have. Less than she should have. She deserved more. She was wasted here, in this small coast town. It was a place of history, drowned in the past. No place for her future. The future she was supposed to have. Why had she setteld? She could no longer remember. It was time for her to leave.
The thought woke her up a little. Where had that come from? She couldn't just leave. She had no car for one thign, and responsibilites here.

they grew up together. they dated a few times, but they seemed to realize that it wasn't the right time. Things were not mature enough yet. they both went off to live their lives. they ened up at home around 25, both with others. had one night, he wants to marry her, she realzied she actually

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