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It was a heavy time for her. As to be predicted with all of the non-life schedules she had. In order to cling to the job she had - which might be taken away a month before her 15-year anniversary - she worked until 7pm each day. She had no friends of course. The only friends she had ever maintained had been tangental and exes. She reached into the cabinet gratefully for the medication she hoped she could up to get her back to that numb acceptance. She recalled it well that day she said - to herself of course - "wow, it's like I'm not even capable of feeling the dark hole."
Well, she had felt it. She was feeling it. Last night she had dreamt that an obscure actress and her daughter had inadvertently sprung her from the insane asylum when she was in actuality looking for the way back to her room. It put her in San Jose, and she felt like an old zombie seeing all the beautiful young rich folks. There was a lot of construction. The dream ended when she had been guilt put in the care of #1 and instead of apologizing for her behavior, she sobbed "I'm sorry for who I am."
How lonely it all was getting alone time. Since she had stopped sending them, there were no texts that came her way. People would usually respond, but no one in her ... whatever. She wondered if she would make a veggie curry today or just starve. She had tried to take herself on a date on Saturday and laughed lightly that the driver was from Cameroon. The connection she had to that place always brought responses. It was weird to want to go back into being numb. She went to the tiki bar - retracing the steps she had made on the odd visit from Lisa last month. She even went to the sushi restaurant and watched a football game while making faces at herself in the bar mirror. She looked so much better in the dark. It had been a big expenditure for her. The constant need to save and conserve money sometimes had to be put aside. She could only take so much time sitting with her own boredom. It had been beautiful seeing the sites and on the way home, the driver was a mother from Chicago lamenting the money. She wouldn't have said it before (she wouldn't have used Uber before), but she thought "fuck, at least you have kids - something to live for and someone to worship you forever."
When she couldn't sleep well last night - the Sundays for a joke - she reviewed her life and all the times her womb had had a future adult in it. She was grateful beyond measure that the kid with #2 perished and she continued to shake her head at why she married him. The only thing she could think of - and it was repetitive was he looked so great on paper, and was tall, and really really seemed to love her enough for both of them. She reviewed every memory she had of him looking for something pure good. It was all fake.
Yesterday, she had again dived into the Layne Staley life. She only liked two of his songs, but those songs she really liked. His end was comprehensible. It was easy to see how scary it all got when the numb went away.
"when I'm by myself, nobody else can say 'goodbye'"
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