I have watched entirely too much Sex and the City and I am now feeling this existential loneliness. It is despicable this craving, this hopeless suffering that I put myself through. I wake up at four am…I have dreamed all night of emotionally distant men, of empty houses, of car rides in the dark. Weird. I want to walk, I feel like Forest Gump. I want to walk across the country, I want to walk and walk and walk. Forget all of this, forget that I am I think allergic to wool. My face is so itchy, the corners of my lips have minute cracks after I spin. Forget that I am young and beautiful, strong and good, kind and compassionate, and just breathe and walk. I open my vampire book, why vampires now added to the marathon DVD watching, more hunger, more unfullfilled desire. Fabulous. The dog whines, it is windy and he is afraid of the ghosts that open and close the doors by themselves. I am like a horse on a windy day tossing my head at every shadow, eyes rolled back, whites showing. Ironically, I dream of a Volkswagon driving hippie who lives with his parents on a nearby horse farm, I ask him if he wants to go riding sometime, he seems interested but drives away without me. My car has been stolen and I am left with no ride home. I start to fall asleep, I turn out my light but not before checking my cell phone for new messages, really who on the planet earth would be texting me at four am.
