Hours, minutes, seconds. Every moment that passes by is not recognized.
I am stressed, weary, and confused. So unsure of everything I believe and trust.
It’s just so fucking hard to rely on anything these days-even my own convictions, it seems...
Fuck it. I’m getting out of here.
It’s bad when the door seems so much freer from the inside. Maybe I need help? No time. Got to leave.
I take my bag and walk past the sink, but something catches my attention. I backtrack and stare into my empty eyes, through the mirror and past the drywall. I’m alive. I think. I grab my notepad-shove it in my bag.
“This should be it.”
Everything seems ready-I know I am. Slip my shoes on and slide past the door. Instantly the winter breeze nips at my legs and fingertips. I don’t mind though; soon enough I’ll be in the passenger seat of a car, just trying to ignore the numbing sensation of my ass.
As I come to the bottom of the stairs, I notice Brittany waiting for me; her smile is warm and I can feel it on my face.
“You got everything; clothes, deodorant, toothbrush…condoms?”
“I got everything”
“you-”
“yeah, let’s just go.”
Corpus Christi. I’m pretty sure that’s where Selena was from...I hope the gulf is as beautiful as this bitch makes it out to be. I need a distraction.
I help Brittany put her things in the back of her Kia, while she blabbers on about how she wishes I would drive half the way. Fuck that. I’m already a liar, don’t want to add death to my conscience’s piling list of issues…
“Wanna stop to get somethin to eat?”
Drive, bitch.
“Well?”
“Nah, I’m good, babe. Can we just get a move on? I don’t wanna get there too late.”
“Well, I’m hungry. I’m just gonna stop at the shopette to get something and buy gas, okay?”
Sigh. The next time she masks her own desires for a concern I’m going to drive-right into a wall. I hate how you get to know some people and it just seems to be a burden.
We pull up and park. She leaves the keys in the ignition, to my surprise, and steps out into the clusterfuck. I wait impatiently, wondering what she’ll end up buying. Did she really believe I brought condoms? Let alone any other thing that would lead to her on top of me… I hope so.
I see her hair flicker in the sun as she exits out the shopette. She is a beautiful girl, but nothing more. She catches my stare and meets it with contentment.
Opening the door and throwing the bag into the back, she sits down and looks at me.
“I love you.”
I smile a fake smile and meet her half way.
“I love you too, baby. Now, can we GO NOW?”
“Mmmhm!”
About two hours in, my butt cheeks got to the point of predicted numbness.
I ignore her texts. I turn off my phone.
Fuck. This could be worse; she could be talking to me. That’s one thing I do appreciate about Brittany, no problem with silences.
As we kept passing the same monotonous scenery, I came to ponder out loud-big mistake.
“Could everything we live be a painting that is changing instantaneously?”
“…WWWHAT?”
“ Time, as we perceive it, could just be an illusion of what happens to only be one moment-where everything is and always has been. Maybe there is no real differentiation between me and the seat I appear to be sitting at in this very moment. “
“what ar-“
“And god-what if god is this moment? This moment that has no definite beginning or end. That everything we see, hear, know, want, touch, love, hate, deny, embrace is god.
Not a being. No deity, but this. “
“Uhhhhh-“
“God is a product of our observations and reactions to those observations. We may never know what fuels our reality because it is nothing but a part of ourselves-of an all encompassing, singular moment that we cannot look outside of. God is this epic poem of explanations, and excuses for the unknown, that we call life.”
“Wow, Greg. Where the hell did all that come from? I swear you have the most random fucking thoughts.”
She chuckles. I want to fucking hurt her so bad.
“Where’s my note…pad…”
“Well, where’d you put your bag, Einstein?”
“Will you shut the fuck UP?”
“What the fuck is your problem? I’m just playing with you; I swear sometimes you act really fucking weird.”
Silence. Finally.
Myyy-realityyy-is-yourrrsss-it's-just-changinggg-too-fassst-for-us-to-rrrealize.
There; all written down in the volumes of my yellow paper. Most of my thoughts are fleeting, I either have to write or draw if I want to hold onto them.
Brittany and I don’t exchange words for a while. Minutes pass us by; they disappear in the rearview mirror. After about an hour, I apologize for what I said. She didn’t say anything back, just kinda smirked and put her hand on mine. I felt better.
It took five and a half lifetimes to get to this fucking city. I can’t feel my legs-or my bladder. It seems I have aged 60 years in a matter of hours…hmmn. What a predicament. Brittany is stressing over the directions to her parent’s rental home. I’m just laying back, staring at the fluorescent lights. I can still remember what they look like from above-fucking beautiful.
Damn, I miss her.
We pull up to a small home, opposite to the gulf. I jump out and stare out at the whispering darkness. I feel the cool moist air and it livens my spirit.
“Let’s go walk on the beach.”
I miss you.
“Greeeeeg, I’m tirrrreddd. We can spend the whole morning on the beach, can’t we just go inside and lay down?”
I need you, baby.
“Sure.”
“Kay, I love you.”
I followed behind her, through the door way, and planted right into her arms.
“I thought you were tired?”
“Yeah, but I’m also horny.”
Her tongue slid passed my lips and I pull back.
“We gotta get up early, baby, can’t it wait?”
“Are you serious right now? A minute ago you were all ready to go out and explore, and now you don’t even wanna put your fucking cock in me? It’s not like it would take you long anyways…”
“You wanna be fucked, baby?”
I hate you.
“Mhmmm.”
You are not human.
“Fine.”
I picked her up and met her lips with mine. Pushing her against the bathroom door and manipulating the head to the side-I pull my puppet’s strings every which way and as hard as I please. She doesn’t mind. After all, she wants to be abused. Wants to be powerless.
I hate her.
She whispers against my neck. She wants to be fucked.
I carry her to the couch and throw her down. As I unzip my pants, she sits up and explores what lies underneath my shirt. My clothes come off. Hers follow.
This night will be a charade.
Maybe it’s me who’s not human.
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