I sit surrounded by the bare walls in an empty room that I just today removed all trace that I ever existed here. Its funny how easy it is to do that. That with some boxes and tape, you can removed yourself from a place. Walls and floors have no memories. Fan blades still turn round and round when a switch is flicked by new fingers. I envy this room, this place. I cut myself today, cut it deep on a nail that I had somehow missed for the last six months, but today it decided to bite me. It must have lay in waiting, biding its time until that opportune moment when it sensed I was near. I stood for a long time, watching the blood pool on the ground, fascinated by the richness of its color against the pale marble of the floor. The open wound laughed at me, taunting me for my stupidity, my innocent hopefulness. The parallels rushed about me with a thousand stabbing knives and once again in a daymare she came to me. These daytime visits are thankfully rare but always memorable for the pieces of me that they kill, like a cancer suddenly set free to feed upon pink flesh. I want to feel it feed, I want to feel something but she has taken that too. I can smell her, her cheap Avon perfume, like a blanket stuffed down my throat, gagging me. I know the when and the how. I lived the what and who. Itís the why that haunts me. I want to know the answers, I want the circle to be complete. But I know now that in that moment when the last puzzle piece is pressed into the picture I will find nothing at all but emptiness. That is the irony, the sick joke that Elaine continues to stab me with. I fool myself into believing that there is hope, that answers lay just around the next corner, that one more poem and it will be better, that one more act of attrition will somehow give me a soul again, give me back what she stole. I feel like Iíve been lost in some kind of lost and found, searching for something but I canít remember what it looks like. I have stared for hoursÖ.. endless hours at photos of me before Elaine, desperate to see it, to even know if it existed. I am past revenge now. I am past anger. I want the one thing that is impossible so I sought that which is nearly impossible. I wanted to forgive her, hoping that then I could be free of her, free of her smell, her touch, her cancer. Her cancer spreads so insidiously through my soul, strangling the life from me, stifling the hope that I struggle daily to keep alive. There is no drug that can remove her from my life, no special drink that will ease her from my very being. I have lied to myself for the last 5 years now. Told myself lies that I will be ok again. That things will get back to normal. That I will grab that brass ring and shine in the sun again. But I know that isnít possible. That is the ultimate lie that she left in the place where my soul once inhabited. I will never be that person again. That day in Dillards when it all came back, the person I was died. His life poured out with the urine that ran down his legs as the full force of what happened returned to my mind with the perfume worn by a stranger that day. A new man stumbled out of the store, his face white as his mind swam and the cold shock of it settled its roots in. I often wonder if anyone noticed the splitting of me in two in that moment. Its ironic that just as not a single person in my life noticed the many changes in me when Elaine tossed me away like something useless, no one likely noticed when she came again and stole what remained. So my only choices are to continue to chase the wind or let it blow me away like chaff. Iím just so tired of being the fool with his arms in the air thinking he can change his stars.
And yet, even nowÖ. I canít stop.