thoughts from the raft. #1

catefrances · September 2006

his body fills her and they are connected. they move in unison. he thinks that if he died right now, right this minute, he would die in bliss. he needs her. she knows this. she needs him. at least she thinks she does. but she's not sure. she knows she doesn't want to though. she doesn't want to have to need anyone. or anything. when she was younger, someone told her that he loved her. but all he did was hurt her. he broke her and she never could put all the pieces back together. when he looks into her eyes he sees nothing. when she looks into his eyes she feels nothing. when they fuck, it is nothing. he gets what he wants. for her, well, there is nothing she wants. not from this one. not from anyone.

catefrances · September 2006

she's found someone that makes her smile. even when she's sleeping. he may be miles away but he lives so vivid inside her mind. this feeling isn't something she is used to and she's losing control. she wants to make it last but it's driving her out of her mind. but she doesn't want to ever let it go. she wants to take it easy and she thinks that he does too. if he gives her the time, she will share it all with him. she reaches back and can't ever remember a time when a lover's touch thrilled her so. he has invaded her every waking thought. she's not sure how it came to mean so much. but right now all that matters is that she has found someone who makes her smile.

catefrances · September 2006

in between thoughts of him, she thinks of ways to end it. this is what consumes her. to open her flesh and feel her life drain away to nothing. she sits in the sun, not because she likes its warmth but because she is hoping she will dehydrate and turn to dust. she knows how crazy that sounds. she doesn't care. the screaming in her head that no one else can hear drowns out all logic. she is alone. she wishes she was anywhere but here. the frustration pushes against her as it crawls beneath her skin. and she wants it to stop. now. she can't wait. she feels she is running out of time. as if all the plans she made won't get a chance. she wants to hurt. she wants to ache. she wants to disappear. she wants him to hold her and say that everything will be okay. that's it's alright to feel the way she does. but he is not here. she is weak. she is gutless. and she wishes she was dead.

catefrances · October 2006

something is wrong. she knows it. she can feel it. when she gets out of control. when every night before she goes to bed she prays she doesn't wake up in the morning. she is an atheist, but still she prays for this. he tells her she needs to talk to somebody. she says she doesn't want to. he asks her why and she says cause she just doesn't want to. but she has a reason. what if they tell her there is something wrong with her. all her life she's thought she was normal. that her outbursts were nothing unusual. what if someone tells her she is not normal. that wishing for death is something not everybody does. he asked her does she like feeling the way she does. she told him that sometimes she does. her only motivation these days is guilt. her motivation to stay. to carry a burden she no longer wants. to finish a life that is still incomplete. she is scared.

catefrances · October 2006

if i could tear myself from limb to limb i would. if i could pour salt into my open wounds, i would. i would knock you down but i would not pick you up. i would scream from the highest mountain until my voice gave out. and then i would scream some more. as i stand on the kerbside i know that one step forward at an opportune moment would shatter my bones and release my soul. i would no longer be tied to this place. i would take the sharpest object and plunge it deep into my body. and then i would wait for death to come claim me. to give me the freedom i crave. if i could take you with me i would not hesitate. i would will you to be by my side. i would open my arms and beckon you to me. to feel my blood flow. to feel my heart beat slow. to kiss my cold lips. to catch my final breath. to be there at the end. but i would not take you with me. i would never ask you to give your life for me. or to me. and all i ask of you is that you be able to let me go. to scatter my ashes and to know that i love you. that i will always love you.

catefrances · October 2006

she watches him from afar. he never sees her. and she never gets too close. even if he did see her, she doubts he would recognise her. she has never shown him her true self. he would run so far so fast, she just knows it. it says more about her than it does about him that she can't trust him enough to give him the chance. she's been burnt before and she does not want to fall into that fire again. she will lie to him and to herself before she gave him cause to walk away. she knows how dishonest this is. and sometimes she wonders what it is she is afraid of.

catefrances · October 2006

she told him how she felt. for a moment she thought it had all blown up in her face. he said he had to go. but she wouldn't let him. was it fair to confront him when he was in the middle of dilemmas of his own. well as good a time as any. what was she suppose to do? keep it all inside herself until she exploded. he had to know how she felt. now he did. of course he compared her attitude to his soon-to-be-ex-wife. and that hurt her. she felt like she'd been slapped. but that's alright cause she could handle it. she gave as good as she got. but she's not sure if he quite got what she was on about. though he gave back as much as she gave him. and she needed to hear what he had to say. it wasn't her intention to make him feel worse than he already did. she just wanted him to be aware of what ran through her mind. she didn't understand why he couldn't share things with her. he said sometimes he didn't want to talk to anybody. she was unaware that she was classed as just anybody. he said that she couldn't be objective. well how would he know that if he didn't share with her. she thought she had been so far. maybe she was wrong. she didn't think so. but he made her doubt herself and she didn't like it.

catefrances · November 2006

when i was younger i was plagued by nightmares. he told me opium would make my dreams sweet. when i grew up i resolved to find out if that were true. all i dreamt of were monsters eating me and hairless men trying to fuck me. i also dreamt of butterflies whose wings sounded like the thwap thwap of a helicopter's blades. when i woke up i stabbed him in the stomach for lying to me. i watched him writhe on the persian carpet until he was still. the nightmares i had after that were worse than the ones from my childhood. now i sit in my room staring through a barred window at a dead tree and wishing i could eat my out insides out. my sister used to visit me. but she hasn't been in a while. she could be dead for all i know and sometimes i wish i was too. i lay on the wooden floor naked, curled like an aborted foetus, listening to the world breathe. sometimes i eat. sometimes i drink. sometimes i clean the dirt from underneath my fingernails with my teeth and spit it across the room. sometimes i have these dreams that someone comes to me and i can feel them moving inside me. sometimes i call out God's name. once i knew this boy... but he's gone now...

catefrances · December 2006

she looks at her ghostly reflection in the steamed up bathroom mirror and for a few minutes she can pretend to be anything or anyone she wants to be and nothing that she is. a simple single wipe with her hand and her self is revealed. the bruising around her eye shadows every thought that enters her mind. she must be mad to stay with him. or does she, deep down in her marrow, secretly like the sound of skin on skin when he connects? or is it that she wants the excuse he provides, to feel? to think that yes, she is needed by someone. that, that someone makes her feel both fury and euphoria. it only came to her recently that the euphoria she feels is based on the sometimes nauseating fact that she likes when he hits her. she likes that when he hits her, she can hit back, knowing that he will hit her again and again and again.

catefrances · December 2006

she sits in a plastic chair. the backs of her legs sticking to it in the heat. she does not want to be here. but this time she has no choice. even though it is strapped to her body, she holds her left arm with her right, as if it were a tiny newborn. he came home drunk and angry. no big deal. he always came home drunk and angry. not every day but often enough for it to be unusual if he didn't. she was tired and not quick enough to get out of his way. when he spoke to her, she answered jokingly. he did not laugh. he lashed out and gave her a backhander. usually her survival instinct kicked in and she would have stayed down. this time however was one time too many. she got up and stood her ground. she just stood there in front of him, not saying a word. he hit her again. when she fell, he kicked her to keep her down. she knew then that she needed to get out of there. as she crawled away he brought his foot down on her shoulder. she heard something snap. the pain so bad she crumbled. she cried out. she felt nauseous and didn't think she could move to save herself. he bent down and told her if she ever tried to be tough again he would kill her. and she believed him. then he told her to clean herself up, she looked a mess. next thing she knew he was asleep on his back in their bed and snoring like a buzz saw. and here she was, in the emergency ward of the local hospital.

catefrances · December 2006

she needs to get away. she knows that. she feels like she is suffocating. it has only been a short time but she doesn't feel it getting any easier. she often stands at the edge of the kerb thinking how easy it would be. one step and it would be over. she wouldn't hurt anymore. how many times she's eyed the trains with the same thought she's lost count. there are scars both inside and outside and she doesn't want them to heal. she wants to feel as bad as she can for as long as she can. she drinks to numb the pain and it doesn't help. she talks to people, but they don't understand. how could they when she doesn't. she's not an idiot but still she doesn't quite understand. he gave her a reason. but to her it was trite, just an excuse to cut the ties. she recalls his words and they are no comfort. nothing is of comfort to her anymore. it takes all her energy just to wake in the morning. and at the end of the day it takes all her energy to will herself to sleep without soaking her pillow in useless tears. she hates herself so much right now that there is nothing in her life that she wouldn't drop in a heartbeat at this very moment. but the sacrifices are no longer for him. they are not even for her. she wishes for a tear in the fabric of time to open up so she can step through and disappear. just disappear without a trace. to cease to exist. yes, that's the superpower she wish she had. wonder woman just had an invisible plane. she would become the invisible woman.

catefrances · January 2007

sitting behind the wheel of her daughter's car, she drives 30 kilometres over the speed limit. she knows she shouldn't, but right now she just doesn't care. she can handle the speed. it's the slow moments that get to her. when things are quiet and time travels slow because she is alone. they say there is no such thing as safe speeding. she disagrees. she knows she is in no danger driving this fast. no danger from anything. that is, except from herself. she watches as the trucks pass close and very fast. she thinks of what it would take. all it would take is not much. a pull to the right on the steering wheel and it would be over. she has this thought often. too often lately. they'd know she had meant it to happen. there'd be no skid marks. the cars behind would see no brakelights. the truck driver, after he got over the initial shock would say she just came across the dividing line and straight into his path. they could come up with all the theories in the world and it wouldn't matter. she'd be dead. that's all that mattered. but she looks across at her sleeping daughter in the passenger seat beside her. she knows only her daughter's presence saves her. this time.

catefrances · January 2007

inside her head, thoughts swirl endlessly soaring and dipping through a neverending sky. some light upon the bare branches of her mind to form solid interpretations of an imagination given free reign over years of degradation. the two sides do battle and always the effort takes its toll. when the right wins, it is barely and the edges remain frayed. she stands at the edge of a precipice arms outstretched in mental crucifixion. she raises her face to the sky and wills the Gods to take her. they don't listen and she is grateful for their ignorance. or is it hers? her fingers feel like thorns as she draws them up her arms. she closes her eyes to save her vision. the hand she feels close tight around her throat is her own and she wonders if there will ever be a time when she feels her life belongs enough to her that she alone has the right to take it.

catefrances · March 2007

she curls up on her bed like a foetus. the tears stream down her face and she wonders what the hell is wrong with her. this latest self pity party came out of the blue. not so unusual. they usually do. she had heard from an old friend and she allowed his presence to get to her. she has no claim to him. she never did. she thinks of another and what he has come to mean to her. will she tell him when he asks what is wrong? of course she will. she is certain that even before he picks up on her mood she will share her feelings. she hides nothing from him and sees no reason to anyway. she likes the ease with which they talk and how his voice comforts her. she likes that she doesn't usually have to explain herself. that he 'gets' her. she knows her boundaries but she's not sure he has any. he excites her and right now in her life she needs to feel that. she wipes the tears with her sleeve and quietly says his name. when she wakes it is morning. she thinks of him.

catefrances · March 2007

she sat in a chair, her legs crossed. her faced closed. staring at his lifeless form. when he awoke he saw her. through heavy eyelids and his favourite vodka induced haze. maybe she was even staring through him. all he knew was there was a palpable shift in the air when she stood up. he went to smile but thought better of it. this was not the time for empty gestures. the fury eminating from her gave him pause. she walked to the bed and stripping off the damp sheet from his body she threw it to the floor. enjoy yourself last night? it was a question requiring no answer. he had enjoyed himself. at the time. he always did. i need you to leave. she turned and walked from the room. he knew this time she didn't just mean from her bed. he was a mean drunk. he had degraded her on more than one occasion in the past. at first she was into it but when she realised it was all he knew, she lost her dignity. his body ached as he dragged himself to his feet. his head swam as he tried to get himself together. the cold water beat down on his skin. but it offered no respite. he rested his head against the tiles as he pushed past the fuzz that filled it. remembering what he had done the night before. he couldn't help himself. he knew that was no excuse, but it was all he had. he loved her. but he hurt her. and now he'd done it one too many times. he walked through the house naked. he saw her watching him. a sadness in her eyes he'd never seen before. he wanted to say sorry but he knew it was a shallow expression of something that he knew had no end to its depth. dropping his weight onto the bed he heard the front door close. he put his head in his hands and mourned what he had just lost.

Brainofdz · March 2007

"And he who forgets,
Will be destined to remember"

catefrances · March 2007

when he entered the house it was quiet. he could hear the ticking of the clock that hung on the dining room wall. the drip of the leaky faucet echoed through the house. it was warm, but he could feel a breeze from somewhere. he walked through the house shucking his coat and scarf. he hung them on a peg in the laundry. kicking his shoes off he left them where they lay. he called her name. there was no answer. he didn't expect one. not in such a quiet house. when she was home the music was always loud and she was usually singing along. walking towards their bedroom he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it from the waist of his pants. the socks on his feet muffled his steps. and there he found her. half hidden under the covers. the windows stood open. the curtains fluttered in the cool breeze. the time on clock radio flashed its red numbers at him. must have been a blackout. her arm hung over the side of the bed. her hair covered her face. he reached out to brush it from her eyes. her skin was cold. he let her be and went to close the window. the air in the room got immediately oppressive. he threw on a sweatshirt and left her alone.....

catefrances · March 2007

she is tired. the noise of the neighbourhood children fills the air. she wishes they would go play someplace else. her arms feel heavy and her head aches. a thought entered her mind and she allows it to dance around before trying to ignore it. she tried to do her readings for class, but she can't concentrate. she puts on some music to distract herself. after two songs she turns it off. she can feel the agitation building and she doesn't like it. with every time it gets more difficult for her to deal. she doesn't want to be here. she knows that. sometimes she thinks she knows what she wants. she is fooling herself into staying. she counts the minutes until she is alone. she wonders if she can somehow put herself into a situation that will result in her leaving. but what if it doesn't work out the way she wants it to? she knows what she wants. she just can't get to it.

catefrances · March 2007

when she was younger, maybe about 11 years old, she used to think if you swallowed all the aspirin in the bottle you could die. she even tried it. it didn't work. she wonders if others thought this. she asked some people. they looked at her like she was crazy. as she got older she figured out new ways to get it done. but she also figured out new ways to stay. she fought with herself so often she thought it was normal. she never understood what was going on. and she didnt want to find out. it frightened her to think that perhaps she wasn't normal. that people arent suppose to feel what she feels. but she does feel. and that is enough for her. she's met someone she reckons would help her. which ever way she wanted to go. she thinks he'd be willing. she knows how unfair that is of her. but still, she cant help what she feels. and what she feels is torn.

catefrances · April 2007

it made her uneasy to hear him talk that way. to speak of this drug as if it were a lover. she had her own demons to deal with and they weren't so happily ever after as his appeared to be. he said heroin was cool. that the way he felt when he was on it was the way he always wanted to feel. she shifted and tightened her grip on the baby. he stood in front of her and told her that once he got past that intial sickness he was completely obsessed with the high. she understood that. but she could never got over that initial sickness. that is what stopped her. she knew how easy it was to fall. she'd watched it happen and done nothing. but she knew she could never watch someone she loved go through that degradation again. she saw the sparkle in his eye when he spoke. it unnerved her. she knew just as he knew that the slightest temptation would be enough. he said heroin was cool. too cool.

thoughts from the raft. #1

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