Message in a Bottle

i rest my cheek against the cold steel and begin to drift to another time. in my mind my father is driving deep into the foothills. "these eyes" and "stand by me" flow out of the speaker near my ear as the landscape rolls along outside my window. rivers of rootbeer and signs warning against falling rocks rush past. i wonder if the roses saw the sign before they lost their precious avery. i bet there's a sign there now. my mind travels up the foothills to the little red cabin. the smell of kerosene, dust, and down fill my nostrils. further up the steep hill, around the bend where the lily pads stand at attention my grandfather waits for someone to visit, but no one has come for a long time so he lies still and helps the evergreens grow. my mind travels to my grandmother sitting alone in her little apartment having nothing to do but think about all she has lost. she looks at the calendar and reailzes everyone has forgot her birthday even her. my mind reaches back and suddenly i am sitting at my grandmother's table eating the best macaroni and cheese on the planet, and smiling up at my dad because tonight i get to choose which game we play. everyone knows i always pick bingo. you don't have to be smart to win at bingo just lucky. i wish they would talk more. my grandmother has only mentioned her brother once when she told me about watching him wither in europe. she never mentions wave. no one ever mentions wave. i think people might be worried that suicide is contagious so i don't talk about her either. suddenly my mind takes me to a darker place. i walk slowly up to the body in the coffin. her face is right in line with mine and i am scared. it is not lisa. it is a witch. she is green and ugly and i never want to see her again. not like that. my dad used to let my brother and i use her bathtub when she would stay out late. her and her brother were the best roomates ever. he was really nice. sometimes he was too nice. i blink to bring my mind to a different place. i stare at the canisters of cotton swabs and bandaids. the door opens slightly and a nurse peeks her head around to see how i am doing. i do not acknowledge her intrusion, and instead only blink sending my mind further back into my memories.

1-5-08

10:35 pm I can't remember the last time I wrote...I mean really wrote. I can't remember the last time I wept. I think it might have been over a month ago, when I was with Miranda after a great night out. Maybe it's because I was with someone last time i wept and now I fear getting too close and doing it again. I can't imagine being an actress full time, and getting to portray these feelings and emotions regularly that I feel somewhere deep inside, anyway. Do all actresses, I mean, at least the good ones, hold back unintentionally in thier real lives, for fear they will never grasp a real, rational thought at the appropriate time ever again? Do I play it safe by opening my heart to the impossible, knowing it will never be? Is it bravery or cowardice? Do I open myself up to constant hurt by going with, not so much my instincts, as my heart? Sometimes my instincts go against my heart. It's like, deep down, I know I will hurt more if a decision is made - more grief will come than it's worth - but still, I almost can't help but move in the direction of my heart. Sometimes I wonder if I have any discretion at all. In the play I'm currently helping with, the main character sees things that will be, little pictures of what's to come. I see things a little differently. I see them as they are, truly are, and not just the picture that is before me. I've been accused of having an over-active imagination by some people - mostly men. The funny thing, after I've been accused of such a thing, it's usually found out later that I had been right. Somehow, the realization never makes me feel better. I tend to obsess over people I don't care much about. I care about them as a fellow human being, of course, and would never want harm to come to them, but nothing more that would convey a stronger relationship. When I truly care about someone, and I'm not just being selfish, I honestly let them go. I can't just let go. It just happens. One day I wake up, and I know I've let them go. If I don't allow myself some privacy, I mean real privacy, like a whole day, or night, I never have the chance to let go of those things that slowly begin to choke me. The problem is, I can never quite see how badly I need that time, how badly I am choking, until I finally get some time. So, if I'm not making myself aware of how I'm spending my time, I'll begin to throw myself recklessly at people and things, wondering why the emptiness feels like it will engulf me if I sit too long. That is the devil playing tricks on me, because sitting down with myself, by myself, is usually exactly what I need at that point. The last three nights I have had that privacy again, and didn't even realize how badly I needed it. ...Fast forward...3am It's 3 in the morning and I can't sleep. I need to sleep. Abe Lincoln once said, "To say a sheep has five legs, does not make it so." I say, thank heaven for that...because if all the things I wish to be true in my head, or in my heart, actually came true, my life would be a mess...even moreso than it is now, well, not so much a mess as turned upside down, I suppose. Ever since I opened myself up to the possibility of love once again, I've been turned upside down. Now, it seems, I've got men on the brain - if not in one way then in another - and it's messing everything up. I wish I would stop trying so hard at things that should just come naturally, and start trying harder at the things that do not. I've been making some funny choices lately. I've always kind of made funny choices, I suppose. I feel like I can't and don't even write anymore. I feel like I can't and don't even cry anymore. I get misty-eyed, or even choked up for a second, and there might even be one tear that escapes down my cheek, but then, as quickly as it starts, it's over. I feel as if I'm about to burst, so I tell myself, "Just burst, it's okay", but I don't, I can't, and I don't know why. I feel like there's this big part of me I would like to erase right now - so I can continue on my way, and accomplish things like normal people do. I can't tell you how I've been able to accomplish things, lately - I have no idea - I keep losing my thoughts...I go to write something, understanding that it's a great thought to have on paper, only to stop mid-sentence and realize I've forgotten the thought entirely. That has been happening so much lately, it's insane. I wish I could fix someone's broken heart right now...but there is nothing I can do. I need to get some sleep.