Once again, I am laying alone in my bed, wrapped comfortably in my rainbow blanket, while I happily listen to my cat purring. My cat is my best friend. She is here with me all the time. She listens to me when I talk to her, tilting her little head to the side and nuzzling my hands when I am sad. As I pet her behind her ears - her favorite spot - I begin to wonder if there are other people out there like me. People who are content to sit at home all night and watch a movie with their cats or dogs. She is sitting here next to me watching me type away on the never fading keys of my beloved MacBook. I can tell she is happy. She only purrs when she's happy or when she feels safe. There isn't a safer place in this lonely house than my room.
My room... my safe haven. Everything is colorful and happy. I am surrounded by all the things that I love. There is a picture of my mom on my bookshelf next to my queen size futon with the blue and purple pillows, the purple, crush velvet and the rainbow throw pillows, the purple comforter I am sitting on, the blue and green polka dot blanket, the rainbow blanket, and finally the Chinese throw blanket that Stephanie left here in July. Christmas lights are strung about my room in a sort of organized manner. My walls are all different colors, purple, red, blue and two shades of green. One shade is bright green because it's the wall that I look at most and my ceiling is dark green so that when you look up, you feel like you are in some colorful world beneath the seaweed in the ocean.
I have never been to the ocean. I have ideas on what it would be like, sandy beaches and bright blue water with a bright blue sky. Even better, though, are the images of me and a friend walking along an empty beach right before a summer thunderstorm. The skies are a dark, dark grey; so grey that the clouds almost look black. You can hear thunder further out to sea and the beach breezes are warm and soft.
Will I ever make it to the beach? Or will I be stuck forever in Wisconsin, the land of Booze and Dairy? I often think of how my mother must have felt. Helpless, maybe. I wonder what it would be like to have an addiction so strong to something that it eventually leads to your demise. I never want to be there, but I still wonder. What do you think? What are your dreams about? Do you remember your dreams? Do you remember your day?
Do you find beauty in the flowers and the grass as others sometimes do? Or is it that your addiction is so bad that everything else is secondary?
I think about my stepdad. He's an alcoholic. He's only happy when it rains. I hardly see him drink when it rains. If only it could rain everyday in his world.
I have been up all night and for 7 and a half hours of this day. I got to see the sky light up this morning. I don't know if I like it. All I can see from my slightly opened curtains is my neighbors house. It's white, and it blends in with the snow that covers every piece of green in this place for months.
I miss the warm weather. I miss watching the sunrise. I miss a lot of things.
2009 is so close.
Will it be better? Will the pieces finally be put back together?
Or will more soap opera drama creep its way into my life and crumble the fragments of sanity that I still have left?
What am I talking about? My life may be fragments of what it used to be and what it could have been, but I make lemons into lemonade all the time.
It could always be worse...
And now, I've met a guy who is seemingly amazing. I like him alot. I like the way he makes me feel. He told me about 6 hours ago before I went to bed that I was amazing with a smiley face.
That made me smile.
It made Ben and Chris smile.
And somewhere, it probably made my mom smile.
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