Archive for lonely

Concern

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 17, 2011 by aaronsummac

This.

This was in my inbox today. I don’t understand it, not completely, but I think I understand some of it.

I have a few personal days off from work, and I’m thinking of taking them. But I don’t want to leave and be wrong.

Can you understand if I think this is a trap? I think baits been laid and I’m being coaxed from cover. But by the same token, I have to be able to get him back. Have to. And wherever she is, she needs to be let out. No one deserves to be stuck there.

Not even her.

Promise Me

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 12, 2011 by aaronsummac

I’ve been away for a while, trying to keep myself from feeling overwhelmed. Trying to distance myself from this garbage (even as the shadows in the corners of my vision seems to swell and shudder in the way they always do when things start getting closer).

Except I’m getting emails. It’s easy to ignore the little things creeping around the edges of my vision – insomnia, boredom, tricks of the light: all viable excuses. I can pretend they’re not happening.

But everyday I have three or four emails in my inbox from someone calling themselves ‘Kaughtneedless’. Not a single one makes much sense, and I would assume it was the Bitch except its even more incoherent than her usual prattle. I took a screen-cap of the most recent one:

They’re all pretty much like that.

I haven’t heard anymore from Blake or the Bitch, and it’s beginning to unnerve me. But I’m not going to leave. I can’t.

Behind Locked Doors

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , on January 26, 2011 by aaronsummac

Everything is going wrong. Dreaming again, waking with the dream on my mind. I’m worried people will start to notice. I’m worried Blake won’t come home.

I have to keep the door locked while he’s gone. Draw the drapes, lock the doors, keep the light off. If there is no light, then I don’t have to see what I’m sharing space with. If anything’s here, I don’t have to see it. I don’t want to see it.

Like the Water Dream, every thing about this makes me want to vomit. I heard a truck rumble past the apartment, and I think it’s thunder and I taste the water in my mouth. I can taste it, heavy and metallic and rank; I feel like I’m drowning in it even though rationally I know I’m awake, I’m in my home, I’m dry and safe.

God I hope he comes home soon.