11184 visits since 03/07/01 -=Mail/MSN=- sprained_soul@hotmail.com -=Featured Link=- Listening to 11.975hz - The official webcomic of #a!. 09/30/06 Cocktail Time Kill. 12/11/03 Conveyerbelt dreamscape. 09/24/03 Studded leather Envy. 06/26/03 Your very own anything. 02/11/03 I am part Hamlet, part eunuch. 11/17/02 I liked you better when I didn't know you. 10/13/02 No one likes you and you're going to lose. 09/13/02 I'd sell my soul for a Klondike Bar. 09/12/02 From lonely to only. 06/14/02 Spoonfulls of sidewalk wisdom. 05/11/02 Spontaneous human combustion on a bus. 03/24/02 We are all there is now. 03/18/02 Know what I'm talking about? 03/11/02 I wonder what it's like to be dead. 03/07/02 Lights off, Insanity on.			We are all there is now     I looked down at my hands, slick and shiny, gloved in warm blood. She told me that she was going to make me remember her, that I would be sorry for not connecting with her and that I had wasted all of her love. Shaking, I dialed the police. I can still remember the blood imprinting on the keypad with each of jab of my finger, embossing oval patterns on the numbers.As I explained to them what had just happened, the words dripped out of my lips like syrup, I remember doing those strange things people do when their world had changed like counting my change or tonguing at food stuck in my teeth. I didn't know what else to do. The room had that mid-Sunday feel to it, bored and heavy, anxious for change, tired of being tired. It's strange how lucid your mind become when it's trying so hard not to accept recent events because as I surveyed the apartment, the name of the actor we were watching on TV the night before popped into my head and I finally had the answer we had silently scanned our head for as we had layed on the couch. "Baby, it was Edward Norton. That's who that guy in the movie last night was." Then I sat down on the carpet with my back stiff against the worn, white plaster wall across from the bathroom, curled into a ball and woke up that night staring at the water-damaged ceiling tiles of a hospital room. I had never been that close to a person as life crept away from them. My skin revolted against my body, my hair stood on end and my muscles atrophied for a split second as I was looking into her eyes, they were expanded and deep in the way only death can be. There was warmth still on her body and fresh blood snaked it's way across the bathroom floor tiles when I opened the door, she stared at me with accusation in her eyes, the face she would be buried with was twisted into some kind of self-satisfied mask of hate-filled,smirking revenge. As I layed in that hospital bed, clearing the chaos and cobwebs out of my mind I felt this stab in my stomach, it could have been paignes of guilt or could have been my body finally registering the disgust that flowed around it. I threw up all over the bed and passed out again. Later that night, they released me and gave me the number of "someone to talk to" if I was feeling down about everything. The thin cardboard business card was crinkled and worn from the time that I had spent crumpling it in my hand as I rode the bus back to our apartment, my whole body reed-like, swaying with the jutes and long whining turns of the 3 am bus as it lurched around the urban outskirts of the city. The nearest bus stop to "our" apartment was about a ten minute walk so I got dropped off there, my head hanging low and my shoulders caved inwards, I walked the long, lonely stretch home. I saw composites of her along the street, watched myself make out with her on the stoop of a small house where a cat always sat curiously in the window, wondering what we were doing. I watched her race along side me like so many nights we tried to beat each other to the living room so we could have the comfy side of the couch while we watched TV. My entire insides felt like uncooked spaghetti noodles and old, strong hands were bending them, each step producing another cracked strain, another lost part of me snapping in two. I slumped against the wall in the elevator, it was out of date and it's industrial styled doors pulled back reluctantly, like and old man woken from the contentness of a nap. I remember stumbling and walking sideways down the carpeted floors to "our" apartment, my feet dragging long indent lines in the hairs of the carpet, flipping it against it's grain, drawing long lines and making my passing by seem even more ghost-like. My keys rattled, the door creaked and as I looked into the living room, for one short second, I knew the complete futility of every thing I've ever done. I could have built a world wonder, I could have had a top ten hit and I could have created the kind of art that transcended humanity and none of it would have mattered because it wasn't important without her. I plopped down on the couch and stared at the bathroom, somewhere in my mind I was expecting her to open the door, her stringy hair damply clinging to the side of her face and her eyes projecting that innocence that always cut through me. She would smile and make some kind of off-beat remark about how wet she was and that I really should shower with her more often. I walked over to the bathroom and saw her blood still on the floor, the EMTs tend not to clean up things like that for you. In some of the crevices of the tiled floor, the blood had yet to dry, little red cells were all that was left of the only girl who I loved. I never did tell her that...I guess this is what I get for starving her of that returned affection. I sat down on the toilet, the print of her body still scorched the corner and the floor beside me, her blood a chalk outline. I died that night. Before I closed my eyes for the last time, I saw my blood mix with what hers. We were together again, if only on the cellular level. It was all the peace I ever needed.