Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Week 16 ~ Options, Options, Options

Journal Entries:
December 5th
I walk in from the cold and tiring day, with heavy footsteps I reach my bedroom door. But something is amiss. The paddle lock has been forced off. Rage and confusion bubbles underneath the surface, I try to swallow it back down but it tastes like hot bile, I’m sure I could breath fire right now if I tried.
I step inside but everything looks the same, though, knowing nothing will ever be the same. How does one accumulate so much stuff in a bedroom not much bigger than some closets? It’s going to be a pain moving out.

December 7th
I walk in from the cold and tiring day, with light footsteps I climb the first set of stairs and then the next, up to the attic. The room unfolds in front of me, much bigger than the last. The floors are wooden and dull; the walls are slanted towards the outer edges. At first glance it doesn’t look like much, but to me my mouth is salivating at the potential. I should have been an interior decorator. I close my eyes and picture what it will look like. A lush burgundy throw rug covers the floor of the sitting room, couch, coffee table, entertainment center. The walls are painted white, the flames from the candles dance on them creating tricks of light. You pass through the high archway into the bedroom, the safe and cozy bed centers the room. A small wooden desk is off to one corner looking out the window. White Christmas lights borders the room, creating a warm glow. I come down from my cloud laying my eyes once more on the empty spaces. It’s great moving in, like a blank canvas, a clean slate.

December 10th
Carrying an arm load of boxes I make my way to my former bedroom door, not knowing what to expect. I drop the empty boxes on the floor only to be confronted with another enraging occasion. Everything misplaced, someone touching my things. Clothes piled high inside a box much like my own, trinkets, pictures, candles, memories, possessions scattered about the small confines of the room. Just the thought of someone going through my belongings without my knowing is enough to make me vomit, I feel violated and violent. I am a very personal and private being, there is no reason for someone to overstep their boundaries and intrude my space. THIS IS WAR!

2 comments:

johngoldfine said...

Definitely a journal with a focus and theme--just kinda cut short and left hanging.

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