Sara Part Two: Observation Existence by Katelyn Marie (ebook reader for pc and android .TXT) 📕

right and I have to do what is right. "Ok," I whisper and lay down next to him. He kisses my neck and holds me close to his body. I fit. We fall asleep. It is easy.
I wake, he is already awake, touching the ends of my hair. "You're so skinny Sara, you don't seem well." I look at him. Stupid boy. Of course I am not well. "I'm fine," I say. He kisses my lips. I stare into his eyes and again I smile. I cannot stop smiling. "What's for breakfast?" I ask, so he thinks I'm still eating. "Whatever you want love." I touch his forehead and kiss it gently. "How about, eggs and chocolate milk," I say. He laughs, "That's a great combination. I think I can get that for ya." We climb down the stairs into the kitchen, his hand touching my back. I take a seat in a chair so I can watch him cook. He places two eggs neatly on the counter, a bowl, a fork and begins. He takes the chocolate syrup from the fridge and exclaims "one chocolate milk for a special lady, coming right up." I laugh. God, he is so cute when he wants to be. I drink all of my chocolate milk and eat some of the eggs, shoveling spoon fulls into his black labrador's greedy mouth. The labrador paws my lap and I giggle, giving her another spoonfull. He thinks this is cute and watches me. He's so dumb, if he only knew what I was doing. If he really only ever knew.
I finish. I walk to the sink and begin washing the dishes. He wraps his arms around my waist. "Stop that," he whispers in my ear. I shiver. I always loved when he would whisper in my ear. I loved the warmness of his breath. I drop the dish into the scalding soapy water below. I turn to him. He kisses me. I kiss him back. He grabs my ass and puts me up on the counter. I wrap my legs tight around his waist and kiss him harder. It's almost violent. He pushes me hard against the cabinet and I push back with my lips. I wrap my arms around his neck. He kisses mine. He kisses my chest. I moan. I cannot help myself. I cannot contain myself. This feels so right. It's happend so many times before. He takes me from the counter, making his way back up the stairs. We don't stop. He carefully places me on his bed, removing my pants. I let him. He pushes himself on top of me, thrusting against me. I grab hard onto the back of his neck. He licks mine. I could die in extasy.
We finish. I laugh. I feel good. We shower together, like we had months before. He brushes out my hair. We lay together for the remainder of the afternoon, talking about where we went wrong. He asks me about my whereabouts and the months that passed. I tell him a few things but nothing close to everything. He feels accomplished, I can tell. He thinks he has broken down my walls. Nothing close. I lay in his arms and we doze off into a gentle sleep. When we awake, it is late afternoon. The sky is dark. "I have to go," I say. He nods. He understands. "See me tomorrow Sara?" I look at him. "Of course," I whisper. You are my addiction.
I take the long way home. I don't think about anyone. I don't think about happiness or saddness. I don't think much about anything except for the song on the radio. I turn on my phone. Texts. And lots of them. Whatever. I text my "other lover", accurately named. Because that's all he is, is just a name. "This isn't working. I don't love you. I'm sorry." I turn off my phone and follow the yellow lines. One down. I ex him off my grocery list. He falls off the shelf, into my shopping cart. Check. I am so fucked up.
I park at the over look and climb down the path towards the lake. It is cold. It numbs me. I am already numb. I take a blunt from my coat pocket. I've had it rolled for weeks. I light it. I smoke it. I breathe it in so deep. I exhale. The smoke climbs from my lungs and into the evening air. I laugh. I watch the flame on the front as I inhale again. It flitters. It is the color orange and yellow- a summer flower that grows each year around the lake. I used to like flowers. The lake is calm tonight. The wind is calm, but it's fuckin freezing. I am high. So high. I stare out into the darkness. I hear the waves licking the rocks. They must be salty. I laugh again. I kill the roach and wait for it to cool. I place it back in my pocket. I sit for a while longer. I'm too stoned to drive.
I don't make it "home." I don't actually make it anywhere. I stay on the rock by the lake. I stay high. I wake up. Fuck. It's still dark. I shuffle across the rocks, the tips of my flats banging against them. I'm fucking freezing, holy shit. I climb up to the top of the path and let myself into the car. I start it. "You're awesome Sara," I say into the rearview mirror and blow myself a kiss. Such an ass. The CD I have on repeat plays. I press reject. I roll down the window. "See ya later," I say. I toss the CD onto then gravel and run it over. I hope she finds it, crushed into pieces, her writing across the front of it. I speed off into the darkness, my hands frozen to the steering wheel. Fuck off.
An invitation. I don't say much of anything, just the words OK. I don't really want to go though. I won't have much to say, but still I say ok. Dinner is silent, I fill my plate with spaghetti and meatballs. What the fuck am I going to do with this? I'll get sick just looking at it. I twist the fork and take small bites, chewing longer than the average human. "So, how have you been," he asks. I shrug my shoulders. "I've been ok. Work is going real well." I lie. I haven't been to work in weeks. "How is where you're staying, you like it and everything?" I look at him. I think to myself, I wonder if he wants me to answer this seriously, like I have a choice where I'm living. "It's nice. I really like it." What I meant to say was that, I do love it, far away from everything that hurts me, far away from you. I could inquire about his life to be polite, but I don't care. His girlfriend sits to his left. She stares at me. When I look at her, she smiles. I shift my stare from her direction back to the spaghetti. Disgusting. Her or the spaghetti, I'm not sure. Maybe both. I don't say anything else, either does he. It's a shocking silence suspended over us like a storm on the horizon. I'm certain they're uncomfortable and it makes me happy.
It's good-bye. Just when things want to work. Just when things can be okay, it's good-bye. We stay the afternoon in his room making love, touching and kissing. I'm happy again. I feel. He's leaving soon, the sun falls behind the trees and the room darkens. My stomach sinks and I stare at him, taking in each inch of his skin. "I love you," he says and pulls me closer. He shuts his eyes and I kiss his forehead. It's just like before, before all the maddness transpired. I nestle in his arms, "I love you too," I say and this time I mean it. I am scared, because I feel it. Those words mean so much when I say 'em to him and I want them so bad not to. It's cold outside, his car door is open. He places his bags in the passenger seat. I watch. He draws me in and places his forehead to mine. "I love you." We kiss. I feel whole again. "See you soon," I say and he smiles. He pulls out the drive and I'm left standing there. I'm alone, but not lonely. The stars are out tonight and I feel like me. I feel like Sara.
ANALYZE

Analyze. I take the notepad from the drawer. I write. I, am not a bad person. I just do bad things. I think, I think I did those crazy things because I was looking for an out, an escape from reality. I was looking for someone to fill the crevice in my heart, to paste together the pieces. I was searching for love, that feeling, that choice. I was searching for someone to fill his place. He had been all I ever wanted and now I have him again. I feel happy. I stare at the alarm. I like its gunmetal color and ticking hands. I think it's nice. I think, I can be nice.
Another invitation. Breakfast. I do not want to eat but I order a glass of chocolate milk and a swiss cheese omelet. I take a few bites. I stare at the menu, at all of the local businesses pasted on the page. I study them, but nothing is happening in my mind. The sun is coming through the dining window and illuminates the entire place. I take a pen from my purse and doodle on the page. I think of all the business owners and their high hopes for income, for advertising, their money spent for me to draw. I feel bad. I put away the pen. I look across the table at him. This could be ok, I tell myself, given the chance. I take another bite. I feel gross. I stop eating. He inquires, "Not hungry this morning?" I am never hungry. I reply, "My stomach feels a little strange, thats all." The conversation is dull. It could be better, if only I would allow it. But I am too stubborn. I just won't let it go.
He pushes a hundred dollar bill across the table under the bill. $18.00. I am angry again. We have no fuckin money. I have no fuckin money. I am struggling to survive. I cannot buy anything. I can barely pay my bills. There is no money. I want an education and yet I cannot afford one. There is breakfast. Eighteen dollars. A hundred dollar bill. He takes it from his wallet and pushes it under the fuckin' bill. Fuck. I should be greatful. What a wonderful breakfast. I should be greatful. He's talking to me again. I should be greatful. There exists opportunity for restoration. I should be so fuckin' greatful but I'm not. I'm so fuckin' angry. Fuck.
Let me out, I'm going to throw up. She pulls on the side of the road, her four ways blinking in the night. I huddle over and hurl. I hop back in the car and flatten my head into the head rest. "Are you annorexic? Are you bullimic? You know you can tell me if you are, I wont tell anyone." "I'm not annorexic, I'm just sick, thats all. Lets go home." "Well, I hope you feel better." " "Yeah, me too," I say. I turn the key in the apartment. I throw my bags on the sofa and throw off my jeans. They're almost off anyway, they no longer fit. I get some chocolate milk out of the fridge. I drink it. It tastes good,