Chronicles

I woke up feeling cold. The girl was gone. She had wandered into the front room to smoke a bowl and masturbate and fell asleep on the couch. I wandered out at some early hour to fetch her back. “Come to bed.” She opened her groggy eyes and complied. “You were screaming in your sleep,” she said. I knew I did that sometimes, I was stressed. E-cubed had borrowed the camera and kept it for the night even though that wasn’t the plan. I hadn’t been without it since January 15. I didn’t expect that reaction but it came. It was the thing that overburdened that load. “I’m sorry,” I replied, “I must be stressed.” “It was fucked up, you wouldn’t wake up, and I thought you were joking at first.” I wasn’t. “You should have asked me to fuck you, it probably would have helped you sleep,” I said changing the subject. “I’m afraid to be aggressive with you, I thought you’d let me know when you’re ready.” I would but sometimes there’s just no time. I had analyzed too much of it already and risked losing it all. It always feels that way. How could you actively want less with a girl? With my possessions I want to get rid of more things and then I think long and hard before I bring anything in. With the Girl I was on new ground, I didn’t know how to reach her and lacked the patience. “I am impatient and am not sure if I can find that connection with you.” This upset her. Maybe I should keep these thoughts to myself but I pushed anyway. “I don’t have time. How am I going to make these pieces and keep moving forward and work out how to connect with you?” I was saying too much, bungling it. She stopped to just look at me and I stared back. “Stop staring at me, I don’t like it.” She was clearly vulnerable but I look, that’s what I do. “I’m looking at you because I adore you. That’s why I look at you.” My stare is fierce, I know what she means. I tried to lighten it. Reached to touch the back of her neck but she grabbed my hand and threw it off. Violence. I imagined her screaming and punching a dude until he hit back. I imagined various scenarios of domestic abuse and how they arise. I also knew repression.

“Maybe you could suck my tits every once and awhile.” “OK.” Maybe I didn’t know a thing, it sounded a fine idea. We were talking about lesbians and I was being sexist. “Gay women really have the best of all worlds, they can have babies should they choose and all those soft titties. Who doesn’t like tittes?” Then came her titties retort. I haven’t been myself for a long enough time now that I suspect magic. I have some enemies that use it and I’ve had this feeling that I’m being attacked. The thing with magic though is that if the spell caster is wrong then the energy will return. A curse is a powerful thing, it takes real hate to cast one. I’ve been angry enough but I’ve yet to learn hate. Even _ _ _ _. I think, after the wound is healed enough, “good for her. She’ll survive.” And that’s one way to do it. To survive. Hell is always close but so is salvation, or so the convoluted stories of childhood would have me believe. Nevertheless I thought I should check into some protection spell or some acknowledgement of the disease in order for it to be returned to sender. I also thought I’d better fuck the girl more. It’d be a dumb and awful way to lose a girl. At this place in time at any rate.