Meet James Ensor

I told her today while she was stuffing her cheeks with pumpkin pie cookies that I love her. She said she loves me too.

I don't need to add anything to that.

But after she left my day just...it suffered. I've always been one to say what he means in his goodbyes. If you warrant one, you'll get a hug. If I could not give less of a shit about you, I wont even acknowledge your presence. I feel little details are important. After all, she could have died once she hit the road. My last words to her would have been of love. Her's would have been "I'll talk to you later." I know it's silly, and I know it's small, but I couldn't stop thinking about it the whole day. What if she died? What if I died? As the day pressed on I began to wonder, "did she really say it, or did I mishear her? Maybe I heard what I wanted to. "I love you too" sounds so very much like "I know you do." And it's absurd of me to think these things, but there they were, burrowing through my brain, procreating in my skull. It all drives me quite mad. But then again, perhaps I am always quite mad and merely putting on an air of lucidity.

As the day progressed I took some ibuprofen to deal with my developing cough and headache, dispensed cookies to a devastated Lindsay, and got in a verbal confrontation with an acquaintance who I have told to go fuck himself. Burning bridges is not my favorite activity to do, but damn if it isn't familiar. Just like the touch of a cool blade. I know it's terrible, but it's so familiar. Like being hit by a spouse, or the taste of xanax in a dry throat, or a writhing empty shell naked underneath you.

The keys my father gave to me do not work and so I was stuck outside of his house. He was supposed to give me cash and chili, and I waited 45 minutes, but I just couldn't take it any longer and left. Perhaps I will head back at 6. Perhaps not.

A text message from my Katie checking up on me and saying she loves me more or less fixed me when I got home. It was good timing too. To be honest, I was stuck on the thought of knives. I did not take them out even, but it was there. But just the fact that my head tortured me today is upsetting as hell.

Pretty much either way, there's one thing I know. I love you Katie. It matters not what poison festers within me, for your voice will always call out and lead me back from the darkness.



The resemblance is uncanny, no?