Mushroom Clouded Memories
An ex recently found my e-mail address after she Googled my name and contacted me. It seems that after years of drifting aimlessly (and suffering from a nervous breakdown), she wants to reconcile. Here's the rest of the story:
I met Amy about 12 years ago. She was stunning and very well aware of it. Her looks camoflauged the chamber of horrors trapped within. I'm still unaware of what happened in her life to create such an ugly duckling inside that swan...maybe it's for the best?!
I was still very uncomfortable in my new skin when we started dating. Come to think of it, it was my first sober relationship. It was odd following the footsteps that counselors had laid out for me a few years earlier. It's hard when someone introduces you to the concept that the way you're living your life isn't healthy. It's even harder to swallow their advice and start anew, exorcising demons as they surface. What's even harder is when you're completely unaware of the demons surfacing and the effects they are having on your newfound lover, especially when she doesn't communicate well enough to tell you.
It was an odd relationship, very deceiving from the start. I was unaware that she was washing her hands clean of one lover when she first descended upon my world. It took 9 months of being together before her deception finally caught up with her.
She was interning at a hospital about an hour away from here. I decided to surprise her when she got off work and sat on the hood of her car. "Hi, Matt" one of her coworkers said. "I'm Not Matt" I replied. "Aren't you waiting for Amy?" came from the corner of her mouth the foot wasn't in. After a heated argument, I was informed that she had been meaning to tell me about the electrical engineer she met.
It's funny how history repeats itself, isn't it? Not really.
Here's part of the poem I wrote when I got home that day:
Flat on your back, with your legs to to the sky
Just one of the many ways that you'd lie
Hanging with skeletons, alone with your past
I'm not the first you've fucked, I won't be the last.
Heh.
I met Amy about 12 years ago. She was stunning and very well aware of it. Her looks camoflauged the chamber of horrors trapped within. I'm still unaware of what happened in her life to create such an ugly duckling inside that swan...maybe it's for the best?!
I was still very uncomfortable in my new skin when we started dating. Come to think of it, it was my first sober relationship. It was odd following the footsteps that counselors had laid out for me a few years earlier. It's hard when someone introduces you to the concept that the way you're living your life isn't healthy. It's even harder to swallow their advice and start anew, exorcising demons as they surface. What's even harder is when you're completely unaware of the demons surfacing and the effects they are having on your newfound lover, especially when she doesn't communicate well enough to tell you.
It was an odd relationship, very deceiving from the start. I was unaware that she was washing her hands clean of one lover when she first descended upon my world. It took 9 months of being together before her deception finally caught up with her.
She was interning at a hospital about an hour away from here. I decided to surprise her when she got off work and sat on the hood of her car. "Hi, Matt" one of her coworkers said. "I'm Not Matt" I replied. "Aren't you waiting for Amy?" came from the corner of her mouth the foot wasn't in. After a heated argument, I was informed that she had been meaning to tell me about the electrical engineer she met.
It's funny how history repeats itself, isn't it? Not really.
Here's part of the poem I wrote when I got home that day:
Flat on your back, with your legs to to the sky
Just one of the many ways that you'd lie
Hanging with skeletons, alone with your past
I'm not the first you've fucked, I won't be the last.
Heh.