A New Path
Dec. 27th, 2005 03:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stuntie_jedAnother night of no sleep, my second-hand bed cold and uncomfortable. Nothing feels right and I toss and turn for hours, finally getting up, unable to bear being alone with my own thoughts anymore. I try to distract my brain from circling around and around in the same grotty path that leads to me wanting to punch something. Porno mags don’t appeal right now, and the telly has fuck-all on this time of night. There’s cartons piled all around, but I tell myself this isn’t my real life so there’s no point in unpacking them.
After a couple of hours of pacing, my body’s so knackered that all I can think about is getting some kip, but my brain is still racing, seeing my kids when she pulled away from the house, their faces blank, not understanding. God damnit! I can’t do this!
I’m not going to live through this, I’m a rat-bag and I can’t do this.
I slump down on the floor against a wall, trying to fight against the despair, my stomach churning. I lean my head back, staring off into nothing.
I blink my eyes, wondering if I nodded off for a bit. Feels like time has passed, but I’m not wearing a ticker and I’m in exactly the same position that I was. I feel calmer and I must have been dreaming about Rings because I’ve got this image in my head of Craig in Haldir gear. I shake my head, but my mind keeps showing me pictures of him, flickering back and forth between himself and Haldir.
What the fuck? Why is my mind fixated on another bloke?
Cause I don’t play that way. I’m living proof that, contrary to some opinions, “gay” isn’t contagious. If it was, I’d be the nanciest queen that ever walked the planet, as much time as I’ve spent around boys who like other boys. Starting with Craig and Karl in Shortland Street and up to and including this Viking bullshit.
Urban’s around still, but I haven’t seen Parker in ages, don’t understand why he’s on my mind tonight. I heard that he and Daisy split the blanket and he pissed off to England while Daisy’s shacked up with some young piece of fluff. Craig was a good bloke, liked him well enough. Had some good times out in that house of his, drinking and smoking and playing poker all night.
I smile, remembering those times, heaps happy that my mind isn’t circling the drain anymore. Maybe that’s what I need tonight, some cheery memories. Don’t look like I’m getting to bed anytime soon, so I get my keys and go out to my car. I’ll just drive over there and see if I can pull my guts up.
I get a bit turned around at first, coming from the wrong direction, but I work it out and pull up in front of the house soon enough. Whole neighborhood is dead out this time a night. I’m the only one cracked enough to be about right now.
Fuck, the house looks as dodgy as I feel. The roof’s been badly patched and the windows stare at me, like dead eyes. I feel the creeps coming over me, but I brush it off as an empty house in the arse-end of night. I get out of the car, not so keen anymore, but I ignore the feeling and peer in a window. It’s filthy, covered in dust and I can’t see anything inside. I walk around it, trying each window to see if they’ll open, one small part of my brain wondering what the fuck I’m doing, thinking about breaking into an abandoned house. But I’m here now and I’m dogged to find some good memories.
I go over the fence and get to the back of the house, the lawn’s longer here but still tended, that’s throwing me, can’t be totally abandoned. I look out into the wood, the eerie feeling coming back, but I don’t see anything other than typical suburban Wellie. I shake it off, noticing that some sort of fish pond’s been installed since I was here last. Don’t remember that.
Coming closer, I look down into it to see if there’s any carp left. The water’s clear as starlight and there seems to be some sort of writing on the floor of the pool. I can’t make it out in the darkness and I lean closer, trying to see what it says.
I open my eyes, feeling like time skipped again. I shudder. What the fuck am I doing out here in the dark?
Walking back to my car, I wonder if I’ve finally gone totally balls out. I drive back to the flat, suddenly so fagged I can’t see straight. I don’t bother dropping my gear, getting into bed and passing out like I’ve been on a three-day bender.
After a couple of hours of pacing, my body’s so knackered that all I can think about is getting some kip, but my brain is still racing, seeing my kids when she pulled away from the house, their faces blank, not understanding. God damnit! I can’t do this!
I’m not going to live through this, I’m a rat-bag and I can’t do this.
I slump down on the floor against a wall, trying to fight against the despair, my stomach churning. I lean my head back, staring off into nothing.
I blink my eyes, wondering if I nodded off for a bit. Feels like time has passed, but I’m not wearing a ticker and I’m in exactly the same position that I was. I feel calmer and I must have been dreaming about Rings because I’ve got this image in my head of Craig in Haldir gear. I shake my head, but my mind keeps showing me pictures of him, flickering back and forth between himself and Haldir.
What the fuck? Why is my mind fixated on another bloke?
Cause I don’t play that way. I’m living proof that, contrary to some opinions, “gay” isn’t contagious. If it was, I’d be the nanciest queen that ever walked the planet, as much time as I’ve spent around boys who like other boys. Starting with Craig and Karl in Shortland Street and up to and including this Viking bullshit.
Urban’s around still, but I haven’t seen Parker in ages, don’t understand why he’s on my mind tonight. I heard that he and Daisy split the blanket and he pissed off to England while Daisy’s shacked up with some young piece of fluff. Craig was a good bloke, liked him well enough. Had some good times out in that house of his, drinking and smoking and playing poker all night.
I smile, remembering those times, heaps happy that my mind isn’t circling the drain anymore. Maybe that’s what I need tonight, some cheery memories. Don’t look like I’m getting to bed anytime soon, so I get my keys and go out to my car. I’ll just drive over there and see if I can pull my guts up.
I get a bit turned around at first, coming from the wrong direction, but I work it out and pull up in front of the house soon enough. Whole neighborhood is dead out this time a night. I’m the only one cracked enough to be about right now.
Fuck, the house looks as dodgy as I feel. The roof’s been badly patched and the windows stare at me, like dead eyes. I feel the creeps coming over me, but I brush it off as an empty house in the arse-end of night. I get out of the car, not so keen anymore, but I ignore the feeling and peer in a window. It’s filthy, covered in dust and I can’t see anything inside. I walk around it, trying each window to see if they’ll open, one small part of my brain wondering what the fuck I’m doing, thinking about breaking into an abandoned house. But I’m here now and I’m dogged to find some good memories.
I go over the fence and get to the back of the house, the lawn’s longer here but still tended, that’s throwing me, can’t be totally abandoned. I look out into the wood, the eerie feeling coming back, but I don’t see anything other than typical suburban Wellie. I shake it off, noticing that some sort of fish pond’s been installed since I was here last. Don’t remember that.
Coming closer, I look down into it to see if there’s any carp left. The water’s clear as starlight and there seems to be some sort of writing on the floor of the pool. I can’t make it out in the darkness and I lean closer, trying to see what it says.
I open my eyes, feeling like time skipped again. I shudder. What the fuck am I doing out here in the dark?
Walking back to my car, I wonder if I’ve finally gone totally balls out. I drive back to the flat, suddenly so fagged I can’t see straight. I don’t bother dropping my gear, getting into bed and passing out like I’ve been on a three-day bender.
