I have a scrapbook full of obituaries of all the people I’ve taken care of over the years.
These are obituaries I saved of people (from my jobs at the assisted living and hospital) that I feel like made a difference in my life. I open it up occasionally to remember the impact these people had on me.
There’s about fifty so far.
I want to be sitting there with you again…
On the patio with our white rockers.
Watching the constellations travel above us.
Under the most pristine night sky.
Completely unmarred by light pollution.
I want to be gazing there with you again…
The moon sitting high off the horizon.
Spread out like a vast canvas.
Painted midnight blue.
Perfectly studded with stars.
I want to be chatting there with you again…
Waves crashing into the shore.
Loud and abrupt like thunder.
Soft beams from the lighthouses spinning.
Dancing along the eastern coast.
All I want is to be in Sunset Beach again.
Strike a match
Watch it smoke.
Hold my hand
Pull me close.
Whisper to me
What I want to hear.
Then take that match
And place it here.
Push it hard
Into my skin.
Watch me scream
Then watch me grin.
I cannot relax in my own basement alone. My basement is decorated exactly to my style and filled with all of my beautiful books and collections, but that’s where everything happened to me.
My basement holds a memory stained with fear that no amount of cleaner can remove.
I’ve been texting you for an hour,
But nothing has been sent.
I want to know that you’re okay,
But I need to refrain myself.
I fucking miss you so much,
But I’m trying to be strong.
I want you back in my life so damn badly,
But we need to end this cycle.
When the pain comes…
I feel it out,
I cry it out,
I vent it out,
I purge it out,
I bleed it out,
I try everything to get it out.
Because if I let it stay,
I will never be fucking okay.
I am a freak with memorizing numbers. I remember pointless things like license plates, medication amounts, and phone numbers without even trying and can’t forget them.
For example… It’s been eight years and I still remember by ex boyfriend’s social security number (I was the one filling out all his fucking job applications at the time). I’ve tried to erase it from my mind because it’s weird as fuck… but yup… it’s still there.
This is who I am,
I’m not hiding anymore.
I’m staring at my reflection,
Seeing more than I did before.
I’m not what you call me,
So your comments I’ll ignore.
I’m more than just a pretty face
And not just a fucking whore.
You don’t seem to understand,
That I’m the one with everything to lose.
You wouldn’t be happy anyway,
That I can prove.
So sometimes I have REALLY odd patients at work… but this week’s beat them all.
Imagine a seventy year old schizophrenic hobbit lady that hoards garbage, has no teeth, long nails caked underneath with an unknown filth, and is covered with cat shit. Literally. She was found by family at her house laying on the floor and covered with poop from her thirty cats. Seriously. (I did make sure animal control took the cats btw). So there I am with this mean, screaming, punching, hobbit creature in my care and I’m thinking it can’t get worse. Nope. I was fucking wrong.
In walks her family (daughter and son-in-law) looking like actors from the ‘Hills Have Eyes’. Basically like swamp people that have been inbreeding for a hundred years and their DNA had just been scrambled by this point. Literally no one in this family had teeth. The whole family just had these creepy, blank, toothless smiles that fucking gave me goosebumps. Anyways, so I’m explaining to the son-in-law that I needed to get a sample from his mother-in-law for a test and the dude says, “She’s not my mom… she’s my girlfriend”. (This is after I just saw him kissing the patient’s fucking daughter in the hallway btw.) I must have made my confused “what the fuck is happening” face because he began informing me about his relationships. He explains how he loves them both and sometimes he fucks the schizo hobbit patient… and sometimes he fucks the schizo hobbit’s daughter… and sometimes they all fuck in all their grossness together… and then I puked in my mouth. He just stands there after this revolting story with his blank, toothless smile waiting for a response. Completely horrified I say, “Well… I’m glad you all get along together” before quickly getting the fuck out of there and ending my shift.
And now… I’m sitting here on my day off… and for the life of me I can’t get the image of the ‘Hills Have Eyes’ incest family fucking together in a hoarding house filled with thirty cats…