Present Day #1

She’d tried meditating. She’d tried “Deep Breathing”. She’d tried focusing on candles and objects that meant something to her, walking long-ass weary miles, listening to angry music and dancing like a lunatic artreadingwritingphysics fucking everything but in the end…

…in the end…

…in the end…

The only time she’d ever felt truly, deeply calm, was after she’d destroyed something.

Not something ethereal or metaphysical, like a relationship. If anything, she’d done her level best not to destroy those. Those…those…were precious. She knew this. And yet….there was always a cut-off. Always….something…snagging her heel, making her trip and fall on her face like the Jester she’d cloaked herself in. Always walking the tightrope, always knowing that the more she opened up, the more she let others in…the more she was vulnerable was when the jackals would come bouncing in, knowing one…wrong….step and *BAM*

Street Meat.

She was good at being Street Meat these days.

What she destroyed was herself. Her physical being. And when that got too tiring (not to mention painful and occasionally expensive, depending on the doctor), she started destroying her life. And, once THAT got too tiring (and, again, painful and expensive, just on different emotional and psychic levels), something she’d bought for herself, and herself alone, something she’d saved and slaved for.

Once the Rage took over….she couldn’t help herself. And, after all, in the end, the blame was always only on her.

On her.

It was all on her.

She sat, in the middle of her Aerie, with the remnants of her laptop blasted like shrapnel around her. She took a breath….two…then three…and managed to find her legs enough to stand and shudder towards the window. Bits of metal  and plastic *tinked* off of her and onto the linoleum like tears. She grabbed the pane and shoved it upwards so hard it took her three days and a lot of work to get it back down again.

Cold wind blasted her face and filled her lungs and filled her already fiery belly until the only thing that naturally could happen was her scream, her angry, howling bellow like a volcano exploding into the still night



“Shut the hell up!” came a voice from somewhere on the block.


She took another breath, and went to bed.



Author’s note – The laptop’s fine. 



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