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the luxury of the weekend was not having get out of bed. she lay there listening to all the noise in the house and ignored it all. she thought of him and it brought a smile to her face. she rolled over and tried to hide under the blankets. she knew there were things that had to be done. she also knew she could delay them, for as long as she wanted. in fact when it came down to it she could choose not to do them at all. opening her eyes again, she noticed the empty bottle sitting on the chair next to her bed. shit! she threw the blanket off her and climbed out of bed. she grabbed the bottle and the glass that she left on the floor and took both into the kitchen. there she found another bottle. it was empty like the one in her hand. she wondered what it was she was trying to run from last night. the sink was piled with dishes that needed washing. she put the bottle and glass on the bench and turned the kettle on. she found a teabag in the cupboard and dropped it into a mug. while she waited for the water to boil she closed her eyes picturing him inside her head. it was a pleasant sight. she just hoped her semi good mood would last the day.

the bitch about using your own experiences in your writing was that sometimes your real life takes you places you don't want to go. and you knew that somehow it'd find it way into your writing. she sat staring into space debating with herself whether or not to put her emotions on paper. it was a debate she'd had before and one she knew would end up with her drinking at least one and a half bottles of cheap red wine and pouring her heart out into her notebook. she thought back a week and a half. it was the last time she'd remotely been in what could be descibed as a good mood. she remembers leaning against the kitchen sink waiting for the kettle to boil, her eyes closed, thinking of him. they didn't see nearly enough of each other and she was hoping that would change. she felt that it would if she gave him space. the next day it was he that gave himself the space. she knew something was wrong even before he said anything. he was hesitant in his actions and she didn't have the patience to wait for any explanation he'd have that would be used to try and placate her. when she told him to just tell her, he obliged. she didn't like what he had to say. and she couldn't stay to hear the whole story as if it'd somehow change the ending. he told her his life was a mess and he needed to get it back together. what that meant of course was that he'd decided to stay with his family and that she could no longer a part of his life. he'd made his decision and she'd lost him. now, she sat with her hand rubbing the kink out of her neck. she sighed and pushing the chair away from her desk, stood and made her way to the kitchen. this was going to be a two bottle night, she was sure of it.

so here she finds herself again. it's late and she is drinking her wine. and writing. he needs his sleep and she allows him that. she waits for him to wake. she listen to ryan adams and sings along. she drinks and writes. it's all she knows. sometimes she watches him when he sleeps. his angel face belies his troubled soul. she listens to him as he tells her stories. she understands cause she has been there herself. she loves when she rests her hand on his cheek and he turns his head in order to kiss her palm. he pushes her and she likes that. they are similiar in many ways and in others not so. she suspects he needs her as much as she needs him. when she rolls over during a fitfull sleep, she revels in the fact that she can reach out and touch his skin. it gives her comfort. his mere presence gives her comfort. oftentimes she looks up to find him watching her. she just smiles and goes back to whatever activity she was doing. he instinctly knows when to leave her be and for that she is most grateful.

olderman wrote:

bump. this latest entry implies contentment. more please.

with age comes sagacity. good call j.

she sat in an old armchair out in the open. the breeze rustled the leaves of the aspen tree she rested under. small waves appeared on the surface of the lake. writing without pause in her notebook, the manic phase that had overcome her upon awakening that morning continued. she heard the fallen twigs and leaf matter crunch under someone's foot. her eyes darted in the direction of the disturbance long enough only to assertain the identity of the footsteps. she allowed herself a smile, but all the while never stopping her writing. he approached her and laid a kiss upon her brow. then he left her and retreated to the cabin. he knew better than to disturb her creative periods. it wasn't even something he had learnt through admonishment. it seemed instinctual on his part. however he came about this aspect of his personality, she was grateful for it. she breathed deeply at the thought of his presence. she closed her eyes and tilted her head back to feel the fresh air caress her cheeks. after a short while, the spell was broken. knowing he was moving about the cabin going about his business attracted her attention. she loved to watch him move. she loved the way he knitted his brow in concentration. how he sometimes bit his thumb when his patience was tested by the inept schoolwork he was marking. she loved the sound of his laugh when it filled the silence. she loved how he stretched his body as far as it would go while she fought every desire within her own not to reach out and draw her fingers across his bare skin. she turned towards the cabin and saw his form cross behind one of the windows. she closed her notebook and picking up her empty mug now the domain of ants looking for a feed, she started towards the warmth of her cabin. and him.

how could she have been so foolish. to think he would be any different from the other men she had known. she sat at the bar running her fingers absently through her hair as she drained her glass. she asked for a refill and was given it. she wondered if perhaps she deliberately drew these men to her. did she have some unfulfilled need to be abused. was it only men she knew had the capacity to do her harm that she sought out. she thought he was different. she thought she could be different. she was wrong. she could only ever be herself. the self abuser. the drinker. the stupid girl who turned into the stupid woman who again and again sought validation from the men she bedded. truth be told, it was the sex and the longing to be with a man that over rode her warning system. she needed to fill that most base of human instincts. and she did. she did it with no boundaries, no inhibitions. and with any man who was bold enough to take her on. but this one. this one got to her. he really threw her for a loop. now she understood his instinct to give her her space. he needed his. he needed the time to get himself together. now she understood his attentiveness to her needs. the reciprocation he was so eager to lay before her. he was just like her. a user and an abuser. strangely though for the eight days she had been away fom him she did not feel relief. she felt loss. a grave loss. she wondered...

her brother found her. she could barely open her eyes. the light hurt her head so much she thought it would spin right off and land at her feet. she poured her heart out as he held her. he bathed her. fed her. took her walking through the woods while he listened. on the fifth day he asked her what was she going to do with her life now. she told him the same thing she'd always done. he questioned the soundness of that. she told him it was all she knew. yes, he said, that's what their father used to say. she told him she was doing the best she could. he called her a liar. said she had a gift and being drunk all the time, living out in the woods, fucking any guy that showed an interest in her wasn't a way to live. she got angry and told him to leave. he told her she can't get rid of family just cause she felt like being alone. she countered that until he showed up that's exactly what she had done. she exasperated him. finally he gave up and left her to the mercy of herself.

she managed to finish what she was working on. she'd even managed to deliver it to her editor, in person. he told her she looked like shit. she took no offense cause she knew it was the truth. she was in the city only long enough to hand in her book. she had come to cherish her space. and the city had none. pulling into the lane she saw a light on in her cabin. she thought her brother had returned. she hoped not. she was wrong. when he said her name, her breath caught in her throat. he couldn't be here she said. he told her he'd been sober for nearly five months. he said he loved her. that if she wanted him, he wanted to stay. she couldn't stop the tears rolling down her cheeks. she wasn't sure she could. and she told him so. he said he understood. yes he did. he understood her all too well. as he stood in front of her asking forgiveness he reached out and rested his hand on her hip. he told her she needed to eat something. she could feel the heat in his touch. he asked her to allow him to be there for her. she told him he could sleep on the couch. he smiled. it was enough for now.

matt776x2 wrote:

hard to read cat split your thoughts

I'll be back when more sober as not to conflict the line i just read with the one I am trying to read now.

each post is one thought. my style remains.