Thursday, February 17

Elevators and painkillers makes for a fun ride


The blond cheerful face belonging to the doctor wakes me up in the elevator. This cant go on any longer.
-You're not dying, but a flue is still a serious thing. Take care of your body, or it will resent you.



I mumble something in response, take her hand with some resistance and swallow the three yellow pills me gives me. Scandinavia is liberal, like a teenager while Britain is an old lady. Painkillers are your friends. The door opens, 713. My address is no longer a street, it's a number. Much like Paper street. If you don't have a home, do you exist?

-How did you end up here darling, what did you do last night?
Wherever i go, people always seem to feel an uncontrollable urge to take care of me.

I smile and while looking straight into her kind blue eyes I open my lap top. I want to show her photos.i want to say "This is what I did last night"
People are afraid to merge of the freeway,and nihilism is deeply rooted in romanticism.
But I dont have the photos. And she leaves.

Mothers journal is mocking me, lying there quietly on the bed stand. Go on, read me. be disgusted!
I think about it while undressing and I slowly smoke a cigarette in bed. Could this really get any worse?
I open the book.

10 comments:

JUST ME said...

I can't do pain killers. They make me hallucinate, and I'm not talking good hallucination here.

Francesca said...

I hope you're doing alright, darling.

AVY said...

Belle my bell, if other people don't take care of you then who will? And also I DO remember that night by the Hollywood sign. I'm surprised you do though... love.

Lily said...

they are siiiickly addictive. sugar coated <3

O'STYLE said...

;)

Christopher said...

Some people just can't help taking care of those that seem fragile. I'm one of them, it's just part of my personality.

Along the way I've realized that the ones that seem the most broken often surprise you and turn out to be tougher than I am.

Jillian said...

i have a funny way of being completely independent and yet... if someone steps up to the plate to take care of me... i dont mind adjusting... but it's just a weird thing for me... i dunno

helen said...

same. they have the uncontrollable need to protect me, but they are not protecting me at all.

1anvil4u said...

Belle Your so misunderstood, I see through your vail beyond the haze of cafe smoke. Bright, lilting lady the seasons come and go. Though we remain constants to bare witness to their shame. There is no burden too great or truth too small that will drown your sorrows or numb your joys. Bold winter flower reaching for the sun under cover of night your journey has already begone. So many roads to choose from, so many left to roam. You my dear, are the traveler, the seeker the one who's path has cause. As the foot fell & heart pounds. A soul dancer like Boudicca, steadfast and true. Brave, brave Belle I lent you my sword.To fend off, to cut down false prophets sinews. You know who I am even though my touch is withdrawn. My vigilance, watches over your supple deftness. You have something, something to secure. After the last tear does fall & chorus is sung.I will bathe in there salty pool & haunting melody, for you. I bid you, adieux.

Tabs A. Geek said...

Oh Belle, in this instance, the Dr. is right. Try to take care of yourself with the flu. It's a nasty, nasty thing.

Beautiful picture as always.

I'm torn on whether or not I wish you read the journal. On the one hand, curiosity is over-powering, on the other, it seems to be subjecting you to cruel thoughts from someone who's quite cold.

Curiousity wins out for me, I think. What about you?