Sunday, July 28, 2013

A Place Called Tomorrow, a novel. Rough opening, free write.

One
I’m not exactly sure how I should proceed.  For starters I’m not very fond of admitting to my crimes.  Not that I’ve done anything that would result in any prison time but for the fact that I just don’t like feeling ashamed of myself.   Once you let it all out every one knows, even if you swear your best friend to secrecy and even though you swore you wouldn’t tell him for the very reason that you know it will some how come back to bite you in the ass.   That’s how I feel now.   Sure, I know he knew I was unhappy with Lindsey but the problem now arises that I admitted to a plan to break-up with her.   He’s going to hold me to that.  It’s as I was driving home that the dread hit me.  I mean what if I couldn’t go through with it.  What if I arrived at her doorstep and the words just wouldn’t come out of my mouth, or she kissed me suddenly, or was upset about something and I just couldn’t say it.   I was really hoping that she would be upset or in one of the foul moods she tends to find herself in on more than one occasion.  That would make it easier to bare.   I also promised her that I would never break-up with her on an angry impulse.   I wasn’t going to be one of those guys who got in a fight and used the opportunity to break it off with their long time girlfriend.  That just seemed cold and far to impulsive.  I’d feel bad because I know she would blame herself.   She would constantly beat herself up about it, and she’d beg for my forgiveness.  I didn’t want that.   Yes there was a laundry list of things that bugged the hell out of me about her, but I wasn’t about to let her know that.   It had to kept a secret, I couldn’t let her know that she was bat shit crazy.
While I’m full intent on going directly to her house I take a moment and decide to get gas even though my meter puts me only a centimeter away from full.  I check my phone just in case she’s called me or texted me, and I hadn’t heard about it.   There’s  nothing, and then I find myself typing some words.  I think we should see other people.  Don’t worry I don’t send it, I do gather how that can be a majorly dick move and I’m not really interested in being that guy either.   I delete the message and slide my phone back in my pocket.   A sigh escapes my lips and I truly wish it could really be that easy, but before I can reconsider that stupid idea the gas nozzle stops in my hand to let me know that my car is full.   I return it, and head inside to pay.  
In here I delay even more time.   I ponder between the taste I want in my mouth other than the taste of betrayal.   There’s already a bottle of Coke in my hand, and I look through the mass shelves of chocolate bars, and peanut butter cups.   I decide on an almond joy, but as I head to the counter, I change my mind and take a few steps backwards and turn and place the candy bar back.  I don’t deserve chocolatey coconut goodness right now.  I pay for my gas and my drink and return back to my car.   Again I take an extra moment before turning the keys in the ignition.  The car roars and shakes, and I say a quick prayer hoping that the vehicle will explode  on my before I leave the lot.   Sadly, it does not.
I’m barely on the road a minute when my phone sounds.  I’ve received a text and I’m almost sure it’s from Lindsey.  It’s not though, and my best friend and confidant Dennis writes:  Dump the bitch yet?  I put my phone in my pocket and I shake my head at myself.   This was a stupid idea.   He’s going to pester me now, and when I don’t go through with it he’s going to pester me even more.  That’s what I get for bitching to him all the time.   People do that though right?   They talk about their boyfriends girlfriends behind their backs.  They complain about little things, but it’s just to get if off their chests.  People do that.  I’m sure of it.  Yes, I do want to break-up with her, but just the idea that he’d hold me to it, and torture me about it is just ludicrous.  He’s such an asshole sometimes, and I don’t even know why I’m friends with him.
Then as I drive I start thinking about all the things I liked about Lindsey.  She’s a complete nerd for one.  She knows more about Star Wars than I do.  She plays video games all the time, and loves to go out dancing.   She likes these great indie bands, but really she likes all sorts of music.  I think that’s one of the things I liked about her, she could get me to like music even when I was dead set on not liking it.  She would describe the lyrics to me, or the behind the exodus the singer/song-writers went through to make it.   How the musicians dreamt up the bridge and rememberd it when they woke.  There were these laundry list of things she could describe about her favorite bands that just blew my mind every time.   In the end it also bugged me about her though, but that’s on my end it wasn’t anything she really did, other than being her nerdy self.   There’s more than that but I have a feeling I’ll be thinking on those once I do the deed of destroying her life.   Supposedly I’m her first real boyfriend.
As her first real boyfriend I guess I’m going to be the one to ruin men for her.  I’ll break her heart and she will never be able to forgive our sex for the rest of her life.   I wouldn’t mean for it to happen, but in essence I would become the newly appointed anti-christ to the religion of her mind.   Her thoughts would form sects and these sects would demonize me, and place my face on any body with a penis.  And when she did succumb to a new lover, and he turned out to be an asshole too well then it would all still point back to me.  She  will claim that she should have known, after all Roger Alan did this to me already, I shouldn’t be surprised when what’s his face stomps on my heart.  Wait, that’s not dramatic enough, when what’s his face cuts open my chest, grips my fleshy life force in his hands and pulls it from my chest cavity and then proceeds to stomp on it with steel toed boots until it’s a pile of indiscernible mush upon the concrete earth.   I’m fairly certain that’s how Lindsey would describe it.

She can be a tad over dramatic, but only a little bit.

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