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JohnHe leaned against the wall. You couldn't tell if he was holding up the wall; or the wall was holding him up. His bright blue eyes stared off into the distance. Every so often his hand drifted up to his mouth, where he would take a long drag of the cigarette he held. The wind ruffled his loose brown hair. It was longish...brushing his ears in rhythm with the wind. If he used expensive, "salon" quality hair products, his hair would have been fabulous. John wasn't the kind too pay much attention to appearance beyond basic cleanliness. After a few more drags from his cigarrette, he looked around and dropped his finished cigarette. Rubbing his hands he stood straighter and then plunged them into his pockets. Slumped over he walked on.
AliceSuch bullshit! I just re-read what I wrote. I sound so pathetic. Why am I letting a man do this to me. It's discusting. Sam was an idiot, I of course was the bigger idiot for staying with him. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself...I also need to stop writing in lame, flowery, meaningless prose. This is what depression does to me. Who said the great writers revel in depression. And I am going to leave the rest unsaid.I hate travelling...the arrival not so bad, a bit confusing and hectic, but the waiting and sitting for hours on a train. I'll pass. That goes for planes and automobiles, too. Now, I love the being here--checking into the hotel--letting the bellhops take care of the luggage and planting my self at a table on the side walk. I feel much better. Avoidence is a beautiful thing.
AliceThe grey skies and the jewelled landscape flash past these train's windows, washing away my embittered tears. A new life awaits me and the passing trees entreat me to begin again...and leave these memories behind.I am trying. I told myself the day I left, that I was also leaving the pain behind. But pain is not so easy to cast away. It clings and begs you to carry it with you; it entreats you to nourish and love it...wanting you to believe it is all you have left. I bore my seat passengers with tales of Sam--both happy and bitter. A very nice old lady patted my hand as I cried, "You'll find love dear. You are young and pretty." I wouldn't welcome it now. It is burdensome. I don't think it is worth my time and trust any more. Sam took a lot. But, I can't blame him...I let it happen. I allowed myself to be hurt...yadda yadda. Sleep will quiet these restless monologs.
AliceIt's terrible thing to realise you are needed or wanted any more.It seems I have been on this train for several life-times--but it's only been a few days since I boarded this train. Only a few days since I salvaged what remained of my heart and left years of hopes and memories behind forever. It's funny even when you expect things like this to happen, live day to day with it's eventuality, the moment that it smacks you in the face, knocks you down and leaves you breathless. Sam and I were no longer in love--we both knew it and we both denied it, until he woke up one morning and told me this. "I don't want to see you any more. I don't want to see you at all." Well you can imagine how well that went over. I was bored anyway. So I left the apartment, left my job, and bought a ticket out of town.
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