I moved my grandmother and her husband into their new retirement home this weekend. I was in a car for a total of about 10 hours. Their new place is smaller then their old one, and they only get one a meal a day opposed to three. They seemed very upset when they saw how small the place was.
I don't live alone, but lately I've been acting like it. There's something comforting about being able to be by yourself, and do anything you feel like. But sometimes the dam breaks and I feel a rush of loneliness overwhelm me. It's a tremendous feeling at first, and then it slowly seeps across me. Things aren't really that bad though, maybe I just like thinking a lot in my head and imagining things that depress me. This needs to change.
When I'm driving with someone and sitting in the passenger seat of a car, I get the sudden urge to put the gear shift into park, and blow up the car. The car probably wouldn't blow up, but I just think, "What the fuck is wrong with me?"
Last night we watched the This American Life television show. I did that instead of going to a party, and I liked it better.
Two cans of dog food, an orange bottle of pills, a wind up cowboy on a horse figurine, a roll of film, four decks of cards, an old super 8 camcorder, index cards, pens, bicycle handlebar tape, wood glue, nail clippers, two fake sheriff's badges, a bottle of blue paint, an old beer can, a book issued by the American Red Cross titled Life Saving & Water Safety, an ash try, two speakers, two hands, sleeves pushed up to my elbows, a white cord dangling from each ear, one shoe on top of the other.
I wish I had more windows in my room.
No comments:
Post a Comment