Because It's Better To Be Irrational With Me Than Rational With Someone Else

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My Past Couple Days Were... Not In Order

I woke up because I couldn�t sleep; the crow on the tree was looking at me. He was bleeding pitch black. I squinted and panicked, I hate birds. Something flew over my head. The crow grew into a crouching human. I�ve seen this before. D�j� vu. I was too surprised to panic.

�Why did you try to kill yourself?� Stan asked. How did he get on the tree? How did he get to my room from the tree? Somewhere a candle was lit. I shook my head violently, tried not to throw up. I wanted to sleep, I said in my head. �Forever?! FOREVER?!� He accused. Just until tomorrow, until tomorrow. �TWENTY HOURS?!� He squawked. The rain was pouring outside. He dripped pitch black feathers. I was tired� so tired. �BUT YOU�RE ALLERGIC TO MEDS! Vicodin?! Benadryl! Oxycotin?! Prescription acetaminophen?!� He listed. All of them lower my blood pressure, I should�ve been sleeping already.

A projectile of food was being caught by the toilet bowl. Except that I haven�t eaten anything solid in the past weeks. Bile. It hurt. Stan held my hair.

I styled my hair in the morning. I couldn�t see myself. It was a blob. A blur if I may. I figured ponytail would do. I ran for the bus, I dropped my cell, and nicked it in places. I sat with someone who used to be a friend. �Oh yea, she works out three times a day in addition to her puking, you know, she has to be skinnier than her anorexic boyfriend.� I nodded in passive agreement.

I puked little bit more. I was swimming. A pool of pitch black water. It was black all around. I was floating. �You lost tons of weight, if that was possible, since the last time I taught you to swim,� says the INSTRUCTOR. He smiles. He supports my back as I show off my back floats.

Stan and I are walking back discussing the difference between animals and fuzzy things. The Swimming Instructor walked by. We stared at each other passionately. It was slow motion movie style walk-by-with-a-passionate-stare. He smiled. I was responding to Stan but I was staring at S.I. �Yea, squirrels. Yea, fuzzy. I mean, blue. Yes, totally not yellow.� Stan throws his hands in the air obviously pissed off, and curses SI. SI passed gloating, Stan jealously screamed that I do not pay attention to whatever he says anymore.
I was back in the pool. �Whatever floats your boat,� says SI and disappears. I throw up some more.

�Do you really hate your life this much?!� Stan brushes his hands through my hair. No. I like it. I really do. I was tired. Really, really, really tired.

A baby is crying. I can�t. Willie appeared, �You� are disappearing.�

We were in CoffeeShop with Wilson in front of Stan. Wilson looked me up and down and smiled. He squinted when he realized I was standing with Stan. Stan was pissed off. He was ready to take action if Wilson threw himself at me as he always does. He didn�t even wait for me inside. I wanted to say, don�t be mad, be glad, you can�t be jealous if I am not even yours. Claim me first, then be jealous.

I throw up. �You were about to get a car. The internship. You discovered a lot of things. Why did you want to die?� I am alone, I am sick, but most of all, I was tired. I just wanted to sleep.

Someone called. �You wanted the black VW GTI �06, right? Get the insurance info.� I miss my BMW. I miss it. I say this to the person on the phone. �But � but� you don�t remember?� I didn�t. �You were in car accident, four years ago? Completely totaled. We still don�t know how you came out without a scratch.� I want it. I loved it. It was my baby. �Fine. We�ll get you the GTI.�

I was somewhere. The drill was going off. I woke up. Ah, I didn�t blow up the lab, someone else did. Electrical fire. It was raining and it was cold and I was not dressed properly. Stan wanted to warm me up but too many people, too many people. Or maybe he didn�t, maybe it was in my head. Stupid lazy ass came over with his stupid lazy ass girlfriend and they started touching and being uncomfortably touchy and feely. Stan was disgusted and I approved the disgust. After half an hour, Stan and I decided we were cold and sneaked back into our office; we locked the door. The hallway was smoky and smelled of burning electrical wires. But we were safe inside. I dozed off.

He caressed my pale and sweaty cheek. I smelled of bile and cold sweat. �You have a lot to live for. You cannot do this. There are people who care for you.� He held me. But I wasn�t, I wanted to sleep. Just sleep. Not even forever. Just� couple hours. I don�t want to die�. Not yet. Not until I pay off my GTI. I aint sticking anybody with my bills.

So you�re not real. �No, no.� What was real here? �The swimming instructor. We saw him. Wilson. He happened. Stan was mad about those two. The Fire. It smelled. You did take pills to sleep.� But what if I am dead, what if I never survived the accident. �You did. You just never got into a car after wards.� But if you�re not real, how do you know this? �Because you know it.�

Maybe subconsciously I did hope I wouldn�t wake up.

10:47 p.m. - June 09, 2010

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