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Rated: 18+ · Draft · Biographical · #1043598
This is basically just a letter I wrote out one time for the heck of it.
A month near the end of the school year
On a random day
2005 or so

To Whom It May Concern:

“You lied to me!”

“What? I told you where I was going!”

“Then you went somewhere else! And now you’re late. Do you know how worried that makes me?”

“First of all I only went to Sunbury because the store here was closed, and I still would have been here on time if I hadn’t hit that cat! What did you want me to do? Leave the (insert expletive here) cat in the middle of the road!”

This is a piece of a normal “conversation" in my household. My mom likes to make a big deal out of minor infractions.

So anyway, that was last night. The only good (when I say good, I mean weird, sadistic, but somehow mildly entertaining) thing that happend last night was this really bizzare dream. So I'm going to tell you about it.

My friends and I are walking between Sunbury and Annandale, (the two towns closest to my house). Things are going great... until I notice that we are in the middle of a war zone, and the opposing armies are marching straight for us.
Now if this wasn’t a dream, I would probably run off the road and escape. However, I decide that the best plan is to run straight for the army that’s shooting the most artillery in our direction.

Amazingly, the commander lets me through and I book it to the nearest house. This is the point where I realize I’m completely alone. So before going in the house, I look out where the two armies are about to clash and see one of my friends... lying in a pool of blood right in-between them. Great, that makes the whole situation so much better.

This recent discovery depresses me, so I go into the house... and immediately wish I’d stayed outside. Everyone I have ever known is dead. Miraculously all of them suffered brutal murders and were laid out in the same house. By this time I’m crying, no, bawling would be a more appropriate term.

I run to my friends house, (no clue who this is in real life, but apparently he’s my best friend in la-la land). Unfortuanatly I find him folded in half, backwards, in a closet. Wonderful image isn’t it?

This dream continued but, I’m sure you’ve heard enough by now. Not that these dreams are that odd. Death happens to be a reoccurring theme in the la-la land productions. But enough about that, the rest of my day has gone fairly well. Sure I was a little stressed out from the night before, and I might have gone through an entire pack of cigarettes, but other then that I’m having a good day.

Currently I’m sitting on grassy knoll, playing masterpieces on my guitar... okay so I’m actually in my room attempting to produce something, reletivly, close to music on my guitar.

My mom just got home from work, and I believe her to be suffering from amnesia on account of, she doesn’t seem to recall our argument or the fact that the speed limit in town, exceeds my average grades. It's all right if she wants everything to be fine. Makes my life easier.

I love my room; it’s so peaceful in here. Sometimes when I’m here the world is just one big dream. It causes temporary emotions, but after a while they fade. Of course, once I step outside, the world is back to being the dominant reality.

My mom recently decided that I was smoking pot because I stayed in my reality too long. That, and I have a lot of incense in my room. It’s funny, both my parents expect me to screw up because that’s what they did. I guess they do have some legitimate points. It’s hard to escape from what you know.

The only time I feel like I’m really here, is when I cry. Sometimes I think it’s the only real thing I ever do. For a little while right afterwards I feel like, everything is going to be OK. If I cried more, maybe I wouldn’t feel so sick all the time. When I get angry, or sad, I don’t cry, I just feel nauseous.

I used to cry a lot more when I was younger. But every time I did I’d get yelled at or hit. I remember one time when I was really little, my mom and I just got out of K-Mart. I really had to pee and I didn’t want to go back into the store alone, so I’m complaining and crying. Well, my mom got burnt out, so she slapped me and told me to suck it up. Needless to say, she hasn’t seen me cry since. In fact, no one really has.

It’s getting pretty dark outside. My mom just came out to my room to inform me that dinner is ready. If I go in and eat, I probably won’t come back out except to sleep. Oh well, hunger is going to win another battle over solitude. The kitchen smells like something edible could have been created here... a few days ago.

“What’s for dinner?”

Now I said this because the “food” residing on the table seems to be a combination of macaroni noodles, burnt vegetables, and gravel.

“Bulger and noodles.”

Perhaps in this case solitude would have been the more beneficial choice. I asked my mom what this dish was once. She told me it was a traditional Jewish dish, that had been followed loosely and greatly modified. Needless to say it’s not one of my favorites. However, I still take a few courtesy bites before deeming myself full and returning to my room.

Radio stations always play better music after it gets dark, and all the respectable people go to sleep. On most nights sleep hits me at around 9:30. But every now and then I get insomnia.

On nights like this one, the sandman just skips me till he’s sure everyone, and I mean every one, in the next three time zones have gotten a sufficient amount of sleep.

Oddly enough insomnia almost always takes over when it gets towards a full moon. Yeah I know what you’re thinking.

“What do you do? Do you start growing fur and howl at the moon all night? Yeah…whatever.”

I’m not kidding though it’s so hard to sleep when the moon is like that. The logic I can see behind this, is that the moon effects the tide, so why not people. We’re mostly water anyway.

I’ve been thinking about leaving, a lot recently. Just driving till nothing matters anymore. Sometimes it would be so nice to have no responsibilities, and not have to worry about anyone.

I don’t always know if my ideas are realistic this late at night. Let me tell you. The stupidest things I’ve ever said or done I’ve done at night. I might tell you about some of them someday... then again maybe I’ll just leave you to wonder.

At any rate, I digress. Whether it’s realistic or not, I’m getting pretty close to just driving over a state line. My only hope is that I’ll be able to pacify myself till school lets out.
The night is still young, (it’s not one in the morning yet) so I intend to enjoy it. But before I go, I just want to say that even though I doubt it thrills you to read my letters, (if in fact you read them at all) I’m going to keep writing to you. Kind of damning isn’t it?

Till I see you again

Lila Tov
© Copyright 2005 lyladesdemona (lyladesdemona at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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