It’s 8.30 pm when I wake up. Stevie stirs on the floor next to me, he has an old blanket as a bed, fluffy as little kittens and he often dreams of chasing something, moving his legs and whimpering in his sleep. What he chases in his dreams I am not sure, as he has pretty much lived most of his life indoors, except for the occasional walk that I take him on. I am sweaty and cold at the same time so I get up and change the shirt I sleep in. It is the shirt I was wearing all day but I don’t care. It is quiet as usual. That eerie quiet that is all consuming and makes you hear your own thoughts as if you were screaming them into your own ears. If I was scared of dying I would be terrified of living here. But I am not. As far as I am concerned, if someone were to come over tonight, meaning any sort of harm I wouldn’t care. It would just mean that the Universe had made my decision for me, or God even. I don’t really believe in God anymore but on the other hand I do believe that he is there and he hates me with everything he has.

I get up and get a glass of water and while I am up I decide that I should not be this tired. All of a sudden I want to go out and drink so much that I can forget why I am here. That I can forget that I am here, that I can generally just forget who am I am. Or maybe even be someone else for tonight. I will myself not to be tired and for some reason it works. I have the willpower of a twig but when it comes to self destructing behavior I am really good at pushing through. I get in the shower, Stewie gets up and trots into the bathroom behind me, a habit I have been repeatedly trying to break with him because I hate when people, or dogs even, look at me as I am doing intimate things like showering or going to the bathroom. But every time I try to tell him that I don’t want him there, or physically remove him from the room, he just gets up again and comes back in. I could close the door, but I don’t do that. I hate closed doors, especially here.I could never live with a man, because of that and of course many other things. I turn up the water to as hot as I can bear and scrub myself with a corse towel, until my skin is red. I never really feel clean anymore so I use all sorts of beauty products from expensive to cheap, as long as they smell good and betray my senses at least for a couple of minutes. My beauty regime every day is an hour for everything. An hour in the shower, one to get my face and hair ready and one to pick out my clothes. It’s not like I have anything else to do, but today I cut it short. I am done at 9.30, with my face heavily made up and the shortest dress I could find, discarding the rule of not showing legs and cleavage at the same time. I grab my keys from the floor where I keep them and take a swig from a whiskey bottle that I like to keep in my bag in case I should need it. I will leave it at home though. Even though I have no problem driving drunk, I do not want to get in trouble with the police for storing alcohol in my car. As I said I am weird that way. My car is pretty new and black, I often forget what model I drive and will only remember which one it is by checking the license plate. Not that I often go to places with many cars but if it ever happens I often look like a lost little girl looking for her mommy. Maybe not exactly the look I am going for, but it might work for some guys that I’ll meet tonight. I get in my car and start the engine hoping to find someone to makes will fill up that void in the depths of my chest, the one that makes me get up in the middle of the night fighting for breath, making me want to be numb again, comfortably numb and painless. Even if it is only for one night.


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    I wonder what kind of hidden secret she has... (:




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