Driving. I have no idea where I'm going. Don't need to. Anywhere but there.
Anywhere but where? I don't remember. Anytime I try my head hurts. And the buzzing. Like a swarm of angry bees in my head.
I shake my head and take stock of my surroundings. The sign for the next exit says... Sepulveda. Sepulveda? What a weird name. What the hell is a Sepulveda? Where does that come from? Egypt? Somewhere in Asia? Mars?
I don't know how long I've been driving. Hours? Days? Weeks? Well, not weeks, I guess. What day is it? No clue. I remember a Monday. There was definitely a Monday, because I had an appointment on Monday. There was a Doctor's visit. There was news. There was...
The headache and bees resume. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. I clamp my eyes shut to stop the buzzing, and grab the bridge of my nose with one hand. It feels so good to close my eyes. The buzzing recedes... no, it transforms. It slowly fades into the soft whooshing pulse of the ocean. The beach. I feel safe and warm. The sun on my cheek and a smile on my face. I can feel the last weak reach of a wave kiss my toes and then get dragged back out to sea. I open my eyes to take it all in. There's Jenny. Jenny? That's right. The Doctor said--
Suddenly, it all goes dark. Was there a... noise? Like a bang. Or a crunch. A crunching bang. And then dark.
Just dark.
So much dark I can almost feel myself dissolving into it.
Fading.
I feel so light and free. I feel myself giving over.
It starts in my fingers.
And toes.
It slowly glides inward from there. It feels nice.
Relaxing.
I feel like I'm... not. Just not.
I think I know what this is now. I can't help but wonder how long until
Day 1
ReplyDeleteIn acting it's what you hide that's usually the most interesting. With painting, sometimes the negative space can be the focal point. I've always been fascinated as a writer with how to say something without saying anything. Gaps. Pauses. Blank page as a story element.
ReplyDelete