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safe? the holter

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›bio: genevieve

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›that week

Accounting for Everything: Sister-friend (Unsafe)

She is betraying me. Strategies are being plotted. Battle lines drawn. And I am waking up in my pj's from a nice dream-

I was dancing the soft shoe with George Clooney. We were in love and laughing. His eyes were sparkling at me.

(there is a gun pointed at my head)
"Walk, soldier!"
"Can you tell me what's going on?"
(butt of gun thuds against the back of my head)
"No talking!"
"But I think you might have the wrong- "
(I am now face down in mud)

I think that maybe I should stop talking to her. My words seem to get me in trouble. I deposit them. Only to have her safe over or unbalanced. Her friendship has switched sides. My diplomatic immunity nullified. Maybe my verbal currency just isn't good in her country anymore. I feel surrounded and alone. She somehow cracked the combination to my heart and now has begun looting it. She holds everything she finds up to me like a hunter holds up his kill, making me account for it. Every thought. Every emotion.

"But these are mine. I don't owe you them!"
"But I am real! This is me!"

Oh, I just want to go home. I am injured, I can't fight anymore. Whether it's on a gurney or in a pine box, I don't care anymore. Just get me out of this country. This political prison. She's got the wrong person. She has mistaken me for someone else. But I will never be released. I will never be free. I will have to escape and live my life forever as a fugitive of her "love".

Last night I had a dream that the little space heater I use at the door at work was suddenly in a pool of water that was leaking from the ceiling. I was in an empty room in my house and I was terrified that I would be electrocuted. My feet were in water. I could see blue lines of electricity surging through the water. The house started rocking back and forth. Then I was standing on a chair, trying to balance myself as the water sloshed in front of me, behind me.

I think I might need therapy. Or just police protection from her emotional warfare. If I could just stay away from the windows, I might not get shot. So I guess I'll just be here, lying face down on the floor, under the table, waiting. Waiting out her second invasion.

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