“The angriest I ever got,” she said, “Was with an ex-boyfriend, of course. I just wanted him to die. But like, not casual wanting him to die. Really, really wishing with all my might that he’d drop dead. I felt I couldn’t go on living as long as I knew he was alive. I had to do something about it. I was literally about to explode. So, to prevent that, I got dressed and despite the rain and all I went straight to the nearest pet shop. Bought me a hamster. And with a red marker, I wrote my boyfriend’s name on its back. And then slammed that hamster against the wall 134 times. For the 134 hours we’d been together. I calmed down after that. But, you know, I don’t like talking about myself all that much. Tell me about yourself. Also, what should we get from the menu? Have you decided yet?”
Not too many horizons when you live in a small home with small windows and thick blinders and only face the smoky ceiling as you sit sprawled on the bed, bottle in hand, more empty than full, cigarette between fingers, more ashes than light. Work starts only the day after tomorrow so there is nothing to do now just like there won't be much to do then
He's not alone in this, this young man He thinks now of past lovers and it's like God delivers a gift all of a sudden
There's a knock on the door he stands dizzy about to vomit and finds his way to the door opens
Well. Hell. It's been... What, a year already? The woman holds a child in her arms and tells him it's his. The same whore who ran away with the little money he had about a year ago, just after they've done it and got wasted on the same bed he rose from.
Thank you, God It's, you know, just what the hell I needed.
Usually it was after the second pack of smokes that inspiration came into his soul but today it came after the second cigarette
And when inspiration hit he'd grab the paper and pen and write letters old style
He was a romantic
My love, he wrote, this is the 272nd letter I write you, and its subject will be the idea of impossibility. I think impossibility is highly subjective, my love. I for one can climb Mount Everest in my shorts if I want to, but one thing I'll never ever do is get over you. I dream you every night. Every. Damn. Night. And I wake up and grab the dress you left behind and I wrap its strap around my penis like one of those rubber rings meant to make you last super long. I've been doing it for… a long time, love. Believe me. A long time. So long and so tight did I wrap the strap that I managed to damage the veins in my penis. It's bad… I can no longer get it hard now. At 29… The other day I came home with another girl. I was trying to replace you. D' you think I succeeded? It just won't get up. And even when it did, it didn't stay up. The girl thought it's because I smoke two packs a day, but that's bullshit. Everybody knows smoking doesn't actually affect that thing. That thing is only affected by the love men can't get past. And in my case it's you. You. You. YOU. And I'm not even mad. If I can't do it with you, then what's the point of doing it at all? There is no point! My love, you still haven't replied to any of my letters. That doesn't mean I'll stop writing and sending them. I just want you to know that the red dress you left behind… Well, it's faded now. I painted it with unimaginable loads of white. And how could I wash it when it still smells like you? Well, I guess now there'll be no more of that… But I still sleep with it on my pillow and hold a part of it in my mouth. I still love you, my love. And nothing will ever change that. P.S. The way I'll die will be with your dress wrapped around my head and the straps squeezing my neck. Now all the means of self pleasure stand in that. I love you.
He sealed the letter into an envelope and lit another cigarette
The house doesn't feel like home, mother. Not since you left for the other world after father left for another house from outside town
Now there's just me here. And my older brother who is younger than me mentally and will remain so for the rest of his life He still hears whispers coming from every dark corner of the house and because of this our electric bill is enormous
I can no longer take this
I'm not strong enough
I'm not willing enough
This cross is too damn heavy. It's breaking my back, breaking my soul
I want to get a better job and eventually a car and a wife and start a family
I can't do that while taking care of my troubled brother
I quit.
Tonight I will make his nightmares come true The electricity will go out and suddenly the whispers that come from the dark will become voices and then screams and they'll get him
A rabbit can die if it gets too scared. I believe this is also valid for my troubled brother. I'll only make sure to leave a few sharp objects near him
I know he'll do it
And I'm sorry that he'll do it but there's no other way to break this shackle
One day I'll debate the issue with you, mother But for now you can't argue with me
she stretched on the bed and reached with her long leg and placed her foot on his desk before him on the notebook he was writing in
“Wow,” she said. “Your place is so small, like a box of matches. And so empty. So lonely. Why don’t you ever have anyone over? I never see or hear you talking to people. Why must you be like that?”
“I don’t like people,” he said
"Why?"
“Don’t ask silly questions. For the same reason I don’t like hotdogs. I just don’t like them.”
“Do you like me?” she asked
“I don’t know,” he said
“Would you like me to leave?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know a lot of things, boy. I came to you because… I wanted to have a place from which I’d be missed if I left. I thought the heart of someone as lonely as you would be that special place for me. Turns out you’re not lonely at all. You’re just alone.”
“I guess,” he said
She removed her foot from his notebook and turned facing the wall and began to sob
“Hey, don’t be like that,” he said. “I might not be missing you if you go, but…”
“But what!?”
“Well, you still remain my least detestable hallucination. I like your legs, with all their ten joints. I like your crimson eyes, all eight of them. Your fangs, your horns, the scaled wings, everything. I really think you’re…”
“Yeah? You think I’m what?”
“You’re… what I need in my life right now. So don’t leave just yet, okay?”
“Hah! I knew you love me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Shut up, you don’t know it yet. But you love me. Come to bed, you silly oaf! Let’s sleep and dream together. Something colorful, vibrant. A spider web full of butterflies. Shaking in the wind. Come.”
He closed his notebook and went to bed
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Daydreaming as a profession 