Lawnmower

Two days in a row… that’s a rarity these days.

Honestly, it’s an effort. One that I’m happy to do, but something’s got to give somewhere. I actually got in and checked work email (yeah) before this, so I hope I didn’t destroy anything. Yes, I might have, but I’m still going to try and stick this out.

I left my phone in the other room, there was a text from the boy on it. I’m not going to answer yet.

Last night, he was over here, and we had just fucked, and it had been awesome, and we’re trying to shake it off, like we always do, and have our awkward pillowtalk about everything except the fact that we completely lose our minds over each other, so awkward he actually sits up, turns on the fan to clear the sweat from the air and gets dressed like he’s going to leave. So awkward I forgot what I was even going to say.

I had dreams last night, and even though they felt totally inconsequential, whatever meaning I was going for a second ago slipped away, probably because my internet connection is fluttering and it fucked up my music. Dreams might be a good way to get that back together.

There’s some fragments here. It felt like just a regular dream about work, except the people in it – one really good friend that I had in grade and high school. In retrospect she was cooler than I thought, especially after meeting so many people who were not really that cool.

I might not even get to the dream recollection.

She was really cool. The whitest, blondest chick I have ever met. Not quite Lithuanian colorless white, which is cool because ghosts are awesome and it’s hilarious to me every time I wake up next to someone like that, especially when you have a hangover so bad you feel like you might also be half dead yourself. No, she had brilliant blonde hair, and bright, sky blue eyes. Like a Lithuanian with the color saturation turned all the way up, the idyllic Nordic goddess type but tiny and thin like an elf. Actually, her angular features made her look just like one of those Lord of the Ring elves. I don’t know why no one recognized how beautiful she was.

I remember in grade school, she and I both had little brothers. Her little brother was sick, so the story was, and there were often times that she missed school, or had to be called into the office or out of class, to hear news or deal with something concerning her family. But she was always so much fun to be around.

From here, I can see a little bit more, or at least imagine some things and fill in some blanks. She was hyper as hell, as I am, a little rebellious, and a little less controlled about all of that because she was white and she could. In retrospect, anxiety is a bitch and she was the most amazing child actress I have ever seen and I’m going to run through Google until I can find her and tell her that.

When we were in Freshman, maybe Sophomore year of highschool, she told me what happened, or maybe I finally got my head out of my depressed ass for long enough to realize.

She had run over her little brother with the tractor when she was in 2nd grade. She lifted the entire John Deer off of him, and saved his life. We were rural people, her family even more than mine, and that must have been a miracle to get him into the hospital.

I can’t even imagine, but here I am imagining. That must have been one fucked up family dynamic, and god fucking bless her for the entirety of everything.

I never saw her brother, and I don’t know anyone who ever did. But she did speak fondly of him, often, and loved him to death.

I guess this tiny sun goddess and I have more in common than I thought we ever would.

She left the day that I brought my little brother in for show in tell. I don’t know if it was before or after the accident.

Last night the boy asked me what I do all day. I for once answered honestly.

I rip myself apart basically, write about my dreams, then check keyword analysis to find out how similar all days are, and see if I can see what makes days different and analyze my vocabulary and sentence structure for clues as to how I truly feel and why. Then I check my work email.

I can never read his expression. I don’t know how he feels about what I said, I wish I hadn’t said anything but really, in the end what the fuck does it matter. None of it matters.

The shitty internet connection is getting to me. Maybe I should try a better quality streaming service. It makes me feel disorganized in the brain. I wonder if I should even bother writing a to-do list today, being as it’s already late in the day, I’ll just write it and leave it at home while I leave and fuck my life up elsewhere, literally, and figuratively.

I’m supposed to call my side dude tonight, and I think I’m going to do it.

Goddamn it, I’m an adult. Why is it so hard just to do the right thing.

I never asked, I never want to ask, how she ran over her little brother with that tractor.

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