Lost My Voice

I'm not happy. Not surprised. Today she G called me and said I should come out and visit her in the land of ice and snow, because it's going to be 70 degrees this weekend. But they don't have beach, and I don't have $400. Or else I would. Confuse the hell out of my family. I told her she should have never left, because now I don't have anyone here to talk to or hang out with. So I'm sitting in my new chair and doing nothing. Literally doing nothing. Curled up in an old blanket, staring at the quilt on my empty bed, wondering what it's all for. Wondering if I should call the pro at the club for an emergency lesson. Wondering if I should drink all 35 bottles and slip slide away into another place. Wondering if I'm ever going to feel different. Wondering how I ever believed in forgiveness. What a joke that is. I am.

My house is clean, because I have turned into some OCD crazy person, afraid of letting the inside of the house look like the inside of me. I sweep and I scrub and I get down on my knees and then I curl up on the linoleum and cry the raspy sobs of the sick and hear no one coming for me. No one coming to pick me up and dust me off and tell me everything is going to be fine.

Sometimes I hear the ocean. I think about going there, wading out, and never coming back. But I know I can't handle the cold, and with my luck, I would just wash back up on the shore to be found by two people who never gave me a second thought. I'm starting to avoid the ocean, the place that I love, the reason I moved here, because I almost threw up on the street the other day and wanted to yell 'fuck' as loud as I could with my raw and swollen throat. But I didn't because I couldn't even breathe, which is becoming more common than you would think.

My voice is gone, rasping down to a hoarse whisper and a dry cough. It doesn't even matter, because there is no one to talk to. And I have nothing new to say anyway.