Коллекционер

           AndthesituationsIimagine(whereheforsakesme)arereal.Imean,itkillsmetothinkofthem.

           SometimesI’mnotveryfarfromutterdespair.NooneknowsIamaliveanymore.I’mgivenupfordeadbynow,I’macceptedfordead.There’sthat—therealsituation.AndtherearethefuturesituationsIsitonthebedhereandthinkabout:myutterloveforsomeman;IknowIcan’tdothingslikelovebyhalves,IknowIhavelovepentupinme,Ishallthrowmyselfaway,losemyheartandmybodyandmymindandsoultosomecadlikeG.P.Who’llbetrayme.Ifeelit.Everythingistenderandrationalatfirstinmydaydreamsoflivingwithhim,butIknowitwouldn’tbeinfact.Itwouldbeallpassionandviolence.Jealousy.Despair.Sour.Somethingwouldbekilledinme.Hewouldbehurt,too.

           Ifhereallylovedmehecouldn’thavesentmeaway.

           Ifhereallylovedmehewouldhavesentmeaway.

           November27th

           Midnight.

           I’llneverescape.Itdrivesmemad.Imustmustmustdosomething.IfeelasifI’mattheearth’sheart.I’vegotthewholeweightofthewholeearthpressinginonthislittlebox.Itgrowssmallersmallersmaller.Icanfeelitcontracting.

           Iwanttoscreamsometimes.Tillmyvoiceisraw.Todeath.

           Ican’twriteit.Therearen’tthewords.

           Utterdespair.

           I’vebeenlikethatallday.Akindofendlesspanicinslow-motion.

           Whatcanhehavethoughtwhenhefirstgotmehere?

           Something’sgonewronginhisplans.I’mnotactinglikethegirlofhisdreamsIwas.