so I said to her she needed to get back on her feet again. She needs to pick herself up from her past and make a go of it. Would you believe she just stared blankly at the wall while I was explaining all of this to her? The audacity one must have to think the carousel ride stops just because they don't like the horse they're on.
Don't get me wrong. It is most dangerous to change steed in the whirlwind of the trip. But sometimes things have to be dangerous to be appreciated properly. It is a rule of nature. The wildebeest knows it has to face danger when approaching a lion's den just as the hyena does, but it ventures out into the Serengeti just the same, on all fours and does just that. It gets the blood pumping and the mind working and brings to the surface all those reasons we once had for living again. But when I told her this she buckled and slumped to the ground in a flood of tears and was so pathetically needy, and I was made to feel like I had shot her this way. I feel for her tremendously just as if she were my own, but what are we to do? I can't provide what she needs nor do I have the means to should I know what it is. Yep, a good dusting off is definitely what she needs and a new saddle too.
So how in the world did I wind up becoming charge of her this time. Lord knows I have rescued her time and again and wish there were some other hero for her to lean on. She is wearing me out like an old shoe and she is too messed up to notice the toll she takes on others. Poor creature. It was told to me by a close friend of hers that it was a lover. Poor creature thought she a specialty in his world and fell flat on her face again, and crying like the little wee baby she sounds for me to come to her side. I have been here most of a fortnight indeed coddling and comforting her and she still refuses to mutter a sound outside of breathes and guttural whimpers. 'Tis a shame really how she carries on and how easy it is for everyone else to just step over her as if she were a vagrant in a doorway at winter's last drizzly day. I watched for some time trying to convince myself this did NOT happen AGAIN. But alas, I was the closest skirt for her to grasp and not being the complete nincompoop most of you think, I leaned down and scooped her up and brought her here, to this place.
She says she knew this was here all along. I can't remember if she told me that now or if she told me that on a previous occasion, but she was sure you would help her as it seems I am unable. Frail is how I would describe her best and I fear she may come to harm if not attended to or may even harm herself. Would be a shame to turn one's back on one's fellow man or woman, so here I am, good deed done for the day. Please reach me at this address and number should she have any need arise or acquiesce to the idea of a chat. I relish the thought of picking her brain to see if she is mendable after all.
That was the discussion held at the office today. The woman was indeed frail and wan and refused food or water. It was as if she was trying so hard to punish herself. And the one who brought her in...looked as if she was tired of seeing the wretch dismiss herself the way she has. I definitely see room for improvement there but am not sure there is a foundation to build upon. Knowing what I know about her background it's no wonder she has fallen so hard and hit her head, metaphorically speaking of course. Nurse, take her upstairs and undress and bathe her and get her settled in. She has a long road ahead of her and we need to get started first thing in the morning.
Everyone's gone now. My mother is gone and my father and my child. All my children are gone now. Everyone leaves me and I don't know why. I feel like I am ready to leave me too, and if I knew the way out of me I would leave in a heartbeat. Now I am stuck here and being ogled and trying to sort out why I hurt so much. Why do they love me and leave me and where do they go? I loved him and he left and I loved many thems and they left and I wanted but didn't get so now I am here. Wearing a gown in the dark in en empty room devoid of things I could use to leave a sad little disturbing scene for the nurses in the am. I have no chair and there are restraints on my cot. I had to promise to behave and quiet and they allowed me the freedom to wander the ten foot by ten foot room to which is now my "earned" home. If only he would love me and they would come back and if only I was more pretty and smart. How can this happen to me. If it weren't for my mother's old neighbor I don't think I would have made it this far...and now...I am ashamed to admit I want to be done with it all. Tomorrow will either be bitter or the gods of us all will grant me my wish, my only wish these last few years and erase me from the book of names.
In the dark the thoughts of the ill are loud and clear. They are filled with sadness and self-loathing and all sorts of wishes asunder to what they feel would "right" the world in which they live. The darkness holds their secrets, these tormented souls. The cool breeze in the night holds their breath and the moon holds no promise. To be one of them is to be damned and sad and unhappy for all eternity. Being one of them means to forever wander aimlessly form one bad happening to the next. Such is the life of fools who dare think they will get their brass rings. Such is your mobe...~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
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