Watching my life on a detuned TV,The pictures I see are just shapes on a screen,Come shake me out of my slow motion dream
Ha. I broke my heart learning the opening notes for Wish I Was Here. Falling for a song so hard I break bones and my own heart on the way down is truly the way I want to die.
Fuck off, Bridge. Sam isn't playing this morning and I am stubborn, a pile of dust and ragged pieces of myself on the floor. The curtains are thrown wide to highlight the dust motes floating in the morning sun. We're supposed to have thunderstorms later today, first for God to smite me with and second for my bones to fuse back together in the light. Then and only then will I be able to move again.
Sam reaches down into the dust, picks up a pinch between his fingers and draws the sign of the cross on my forehead.
He doesn't have room for me, Sam. That's why I live here in the dark.
It isn't dark right now, is it?
Sure it is. You just need to look behind my eyes.
What will it take, Bridget?
If I knew I would buy it.
Faith doesn't come for sale.
None of the virtues do, Sam. Or we would have some.
You're too hard on yourself. He whispers it. He makes me sad. He came over to see if I wanted to tag along to exceedingly-hot church (NO) and then he said I didn't actually have a choice. He's concerned because yesterday I had Saturday kayak with Matt and maybe made some casual statements that scared the fuck out of Matt because he knows me very well but apparently not enough.
I'm fine. As always. Some days are harder than others. Most of them follow tough nights.