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Thoughts slipping through the cracks

Posted: 06 Nov 2014, 03:18
by Satine
11/5/14- I think she is here. This has to be it. I stepped off the plane and into the airport with that little piece of paper that was folded meticulously into ten squared segments. It was wild and euphoric. I found a corner where no one was going to interrupt the ritual I performed a thousand times since obtaining it. I opened the hot pink post it note slowly with disturbing focus like it would reveal the winning lotto numbers. In a way it did. What was on that worn note paper between my fingers was going to bring me a little closer to what I spent most of my life being medicated into thinking was only my imagination.

I had two episodes on the flight over. My chest hurt. Later it was my side. Since I found out about her it is that much stronger. Does she feel them? Those panic attacks and the pills that were supposed to make them go away were in fact signals. Maybe this will be a beginning. Or it will be an end. It will be nothing if I don't find her.

On a side note. By now they will have found him. Chester the prick. I still feel him in my hands. He had it coming. It is going to take a few days to thaw him out. If he was alive he would have been pissed off that they also found all his drugs stuffed around his body. They will blame Mom for it. She will be numb through the trial. Her mind was blown long before she was inhaling Chester's primo lines off grandma's coffee table. I should feel guilty but I don't. She kept the secret there was two of us. I was the one that got stuck riding it out with her. Now she will be locked up safe and probably for the first time in her life sober.

I am not afraid. I have nothing to lose. I have everything I need in ten tightly folded squares of hot pink post-it note in my pocket. I also have Chester's secret stash of cash in my pockets. I exchanged it for the right currency before taking off from home. Everything else that would lead to me being responsible for Chester losing his head went up in flames in the house. That would be blamed on mom leaving her cigarette burning while passed out on the hammock in the back yard. She couldn't handle my meds. She was snowed in the weaved rope beneath her before she knew what hit her.

Re: Thoughts slipping through the cracks

Posted: 15 Nov 2014, 12:14
by Satine
11/15/14- I have returned briefly. Since I have arrived I have come into more trouble than Chester, his head or sending mom to the pokey for long term drying out is likely worth. It is like one long twisted and disorienting episode of The Twilight Zone. And get this...if there is any truth to the saying something must be in the water then I am sure it applies to this place. I wonder when the filming and whatever will end downstairs. The lobby is in constant character with the actors and extras in costume and fighting. Great effects though. You don't even see the cameras. It is like being in the middle of it. If I didn't know better I would have thought it was real. I may ask for an autograph at some point but for now I keep on my path straight to the elevator up and then back down.

I got a job. Of all lines of work I am to sell things in fashion? I can sell someone on anything. That goes without saying. I am just not sure how heels, top brands and seasonal couture makes sense. I crawled out of a shack that resembled a tin can back home. One that smelled worse because Chester was breathing in it. Now I am supposed to sell fashion like I lived it? The boss is a great guy. I was lucky to walk in with the right take-out and got a job as well as a person to talk to. He is cool. Until he finds out why I am here.

I have some trouble. Scratch that . I have a lot of trouble. I think I met a pair of guys that know her. From what has transpired I am not so sure looking for he was a great idea after all. Guys like these make me think twice about giving up my meds. I think something is up in more ways than one. I think she is head of some kind of gang or mafia type thing. These two guys make the ones in The Godfather look like a bunch of pussies.