“it worked” she said, lighter.
so i won’t stop. one day of honesty gave me one day of peace. i slept and dreamed and ate meals. today i ate two meals. i’m no longer angry. i’m not terribly sad. except, i am, still a little bit of both. but it’s mostly residual. the leftovers that i haven’t washed away. phantoms, like me, these leftovers look the same, but lack any real substance.
a few weeks ago, during a canoe/floating trip, i tipped my friend’s boat over. she fell out and didn’t feel anything more than the slap of cold water on hot skin. but later we saw it: a bruise that (almost) covered the bottom half of the back of her leg. she didn’t know, couldn’t say, how it’d happened. just that later, there was blood and this black, blue and yellow ugliness staining her leg. i felt bad. that’s it really. i felt bad, and told her so. over and over until i’m sure she wanted to punch me. sometimes i feel like a bumbling idiot. that’s my secret today. sometimes, i’m stumbling, this large girl with a large personality who only wants to be loved. i’m a overgrown german shepherd who believes herself to be a toy poodle. jumping jumping jumping around your ankles, only, large as i am, i’m knocking over tables and chairs and lamps and everyone’s screaming SIT THE HELL DOWN girl, but that only makes me run more. “love me” I pant.