About Me

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Columbus, Ohio
It's ok Pluto, im not a "planet" either...


Is this my inner peace?

.... the music

it's been a long time since i rock and rolled

I feel like a hermit crab. I'm constantly looking for the larger, shinier shell. I'm beginning to wonder if the shell will ever be big and shiny enough to cover me up. What if it isn't? What if I'm really some pathetic, bottom-dwelling invertebrate, who never finds a shell after all?


Well, I never promised it would be pretty.

"I once saw a forklift lift a crate of forks. And it was way too literal for me." -Mitch Hedberg

This night was a bit unusual for me. I didn't have to work, so I went out with my best friend. We drank a bit, but nothing crazy. We had plans to go hiking the next day. And you bet your sweet ass we went. We were up for awhile, but hit the hay around 3 am or so. We slept in the same bed. I slept quite comfortably, for awhile. Then the dream began.

It is dusk. My best friend's car drops me off at the end of a driveway. She speeds off faster than she should. The driveway is long and pin-straight and gravel. I begin to walk. Trees surround me on either side. The air smells like rain is coming. I'm carrying my red overnight bag. It is heavy and weighing on my shoulder. The walk is long, but familiar. The house is set a good half-mile off of the road. The house itself is small and quaint. Paint is peeling from the wood siding. I walk onto the porch. It sinks down in the middle. The wood creaks beneath my feet. I have a key to the house, which makes me believe that I must live there. I unlock the door and walk in. The light is gold and warm. My roommate is there. The same one I have in real life. I say hi to her. She is reading a book at a small kitchen table that is dark wood. She says hi and asks me if I am hungry. I tell her no thanks, but whatever she's cooking smells good. She tells me she'll leave leftovers in the fridge for me for later on. I nod to her in response. The night is normal. We talk a lot, laugh a lot, drink a lot of wine. We watch a movie, which one I can't recall. I fall asleep on the couch. She goes to her room which is upstairs. We sleep.
Morning comes. I am suddenly awakened by a shrill scream. It comes from upstairs. I run up the stairs, skipping a few at a time. I find my roommate in the bathroom next to her bedroom. I look and there is a body propped against the tub. It is slumped over, but the hair is cut short and blonde. My roommate is screaming. She keeps screaming a name. It is the name of her best friend. I hug her and inch her out of the bathroom. I close the door behind us. We call the police and an ambulance. They arrive and do their thing. The girl is dead they tell us. There is no pulse. They take her out of our house. I call my roommate's family because she's too distraught. I tell myself that she needs her family to be here with her. Her mother comes. Her brother comes as well. (side note- she has no brother in real life) They console her for awhile. I felt comfortable enough to leave her alone with them. Although, I never really liked her brother much, and they weren't all that close.

A few weeks pass. I am with her every night. She isn't handling it the best, but better than I ever thought she would. My best friend comes over as well, and we try to distract her. It works, and weeks later things return to almost normal. Then it happens.

The same scenario, in the morning, in the bathroom. I am there again. I witness the whole thing. I call the police again. Questions are swirling in my mind; Is this real? How can this be? Am I dreaming? I am not dreaming. I close the bathroom door again. The police arrive. They storm the house. I am sitting on the couch with my roommate. She is hysterical. She is shaking. She asks me if this is really happening. I assure her that it is, but I cannot explain. I am holding her hand as the police come back down the stairs to approach us. They have a puzzled look on their faces. Most of them go outside. One of them stands in front of us. He proceeds to sit down next to my roommate. He looks bewildered. He tells us that there was no body in the bathroom. I stand up and yell at him that of course there was... I SAW IT WITH MY OWN EYES! ARE YOU STUPID, BLIND?! WHICH IS IT? He stands up and grabs my hand. He tells me to come see for myself. I follow him up the stairs. We go to the bathroom. The door is open. Sure enough, there is nothing. The bathroom looks completely normal, certainly no body against the tub. I cannot believe my eyes. I rub them. I close them. I rub them again. I look into the bathroom again. There is still nothing. I start to cry. I think to myself that I am losing my mind, and this must all be just a bad dream. The cop puts his hand on my shoulder. He says something to me but I am not really listening. He says something about how much trauma the two of us have been through, and that we must have just freaked out. I guess I accepted it. I composed myself and walked down the stairs to break the news to my roommate. I tell her that we thought we saw something that wasn't really there. I tell her I have taken a lot of psychology classes, and I know that after experiencing devastating trauma it is not unusual for these things to happen. She calms a bit, but I can tell she doesn't buy it. I think to myself that I know what I saw. I also know what I saw when I went upstairs with the cop; nothing at all. We go to sleep.
The same thing keeps happening. Same scenario. I can't explain. People start to call my roommate crazy and insane. Her family doesn't even believe her anymore. We stop calling the police. She tells me I'm the only person she can trust because I see it too. She says that I know she's not crazy. She is not crazy. It doesn't happen every day, but it happens a lot. Sometimes it happens once a week, sometimes it happens several days in a row, and sometimes it happens only once every few months. Whichever the case, it comes to the point where I start helping her bury the body. We bury the body in the back yard. We wrap the body up in a blanket and carry it far into the woods behind our home. Over and over. My roommate is loosing her grip on reality, and she voices it. People keep talking and talking. They're really on the brink of putting her in an asylum. I am scared. I know what I see is real. I can feel it, I can smell the air. I can feel the rain when I'm standing in it, when the body is next to me on the ground, when we're digging. I can feel the dirt hit my feet. I wake up the next day and there is dirt underneath my fingernails. My house permanently smells of bleach because my roommate scrubs the bathroom each and every time after we find the body, again, and again, and again. No one believes her, and I still keep my mouth shut because I'm too afraid. I don't want to be locked up too.
One morning I wake up. It is about 5 am. It is still dark out. I hear something. I lay on the couch for a few minutes. I stand up quietly. Fear fills me like helium in a balloon and I cannot breathe. Someone is in our house. I follow the noise. I realize it is coming from the upstairs, but it is very faint. I sneak up the stairs. As quiet as I can. I see a sliver of light coming from the bathroom, the door is slightly cracked. I hide in the shadows and squint my eyes to see through the crack. I see her brother. I see him propping the body up against the tub. I cover my mouth to stop myself from making any noise. Reluctantly I dial 911. I tell them the exact scenario and tell them that they must move quickly, and very quietly. They come in a matter of minutes. I hide while they swarm the house. They catch him leaving out of the back door. He puts his hands in the air. They cuff him. He screams that he did it out of spite for his sister. He is jealous of her, and he wanted to do nothing but fuck with her head and ruin her life. He is carried away in the back of a cop car.

The girl is alive. He had been giving her medicine to slow her heart down so much that a heartbeat couldn't be detected. He had watched us bury her over and over and immediately dug her out. He had tortured her. He had mutilated her woman parts, over and over again, just to get back at his sister.


Can't sleep, clowns will eat me...

“A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.” - Oscar Wilde

Another night. Another nightmare.

It is midnight. I'm home. My stomach aches. I lay on the couch. GREASE plays in the background on the television. My lovely roommate is home. She has a guest over, a male. He is tall, skinny, and practically blind, which I say because of the prescription of his glasses. He is somewhat friendly, but nothing to write home about. I'm not impressed. She can certainly do better. They sit on the couch next to me. I am curled up in the fetal position. My stomach hurts terribly. I doze in and out of slumber. They leave the couch and go into her room. I think I'll vomit, but it never happens. I continue dozing in and out of sleep; 20 minute intervals of non-interrupted rest. I hear them having sex in the room next to me. I am not shocked or disturbed. The bed is squeaky. I venture upstairs to my bed. AHHHHHH MY BED! I lay on the same side, always. It has become molded to my shape. I love it. I have a bit of trouble falling back to unconsciousness. I watch REN & STIMPY to ease my mind. I begin to drift to sleep. I begin to dream.

The following dream, is by far the most intense/real/horrifying, dream I've had recently. And you probably won't find it to be, but I suppose you just had to experience it. I will do my best to relay it in it's true form.

I'm tossing on my bed, hardly awake. I open my eyes just barely. I see two figures running across my room. They are dark and dog-like. I bolt upright quite suddenly. I'm alarmed. I call down the dark stairs to my roommate. I yell her name a few times until she hears me. She walks to the edge of my stairs. I proceed to tell her that I saw dogs in my room. I hear a foreign voice. It is coming from above me. I look up in surprise. I look up to see that there is another floor to our apartment. There is a girl with blonde hair. She's laying on a twin sized bed with red sheets. I know her, but I don't really know her. She goes on to tell me that these are so and so's dogs. She's watching them. I am half asleep. I am confused. I am annoyed. My cat does not like dogs. I don't like him to be upset. A black dog comes walking towards me. I am asleep. I am annoyed. No one asked me if this was ok. Well in case they were wondering it wasn't. I don't like these dogs. They're menacing. They're malicious. I just do not like them. I'm asleep when the dog touches me. He hits my hand with his nose, forcefully. I am asleep. I mumble no. I pull my hand behind me. The dog growls. I take a few steps backwards. My breathing is heavy. I panic. My cat rubs against my leg. I look down at him, gasping for breath. He looks up to me. He speaks. He says one word. RUN. I start to creep backwards. The dog lunges forward. His great black paws push me downward. My back hits the floor. A sharp piercing pain rushes down my spin. I wince. The dog is over me. He is still growling. He seems angry. I panic. I don't understand. I try to speak to the dog. It makes him angrier. He drools on me. He is gnarling. He stands on my chest. It is even harder to breathe. I scream for my roommate. Everyone is gone. The room turns black. The dog's eyes are glowing yellow. He continues to drool on me. He snarls. I scream again. He lurches forward. My neck is a smorgasbord. Bits of my flesh spatter the floor like a light summer rain. They do not make a sound. The floor turns red. The edges of the room turn black, and the black creeps in slowly until I can see nothing more.

I wake up in a panic. I yell for my roommate. After a few tries, she comes to the bottom of the stairs. It all feels so eerily familiar.


OshKosh Bigosh, what the fuck kind of name is that for a clothing line?

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies."- Fleetwood Mac

It is 6:37 am, eastern-standard time. I specified eastern-standard time in hopes that maybe someone residing in a different timezone will read this. My hopes are high, always. That is actually a lie. My hopes can get low, very low. At times they often do. Such is life. You gotta keep on keepin on. And you always do. I sit on the porch now, I inhale the last of my cigarrette. My thoughts are running low and the sun is coming up. I haven't slept. I'm a bit delirious. We all are. The birds are chirping. I think it will be a beautiful day. I'll sleep soon enough. Cars are leaving the complex where I temporarily reside. I miss my home from before. I miss it a lot. But I remind myself often that it's just a house. A home is wherever you make it. It's for the best. Perhaps I'll move south as I've planned before, perhaps I'll move farther, much farther than that. Who knows? I sure don't. Life is funny. It takes you places you think you can't deal with, yet you always manage. No one gets out alive. I know I must leave here soon. My mind is leaving me. I often day dream of being somewhere else. I'm young, and life is short.

You may be right, I may be crazy...

"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream."
- Edgar Allan Poe

It's 6 am. I'm awakened by a nightmare, not unusual. All with similar qualities, vivid, vibrant, quite frightening indeed. I attempt to fall back asleep several times, unsuccessfully trying to shake my mind into some oblivion beyond this Texas Chainsaw-esque dream, but I was too far gone. A familiar figure keeps reappearing in my dreams as of late. An ex boyfriend, who I promise I am not still in love with. I'm not afraid to be blunt. You'll figure that out. This happens to me sometimes. I'll dream about someone that once meant something to me, frequently in fact, if we don't talk anymore. The only remedy I've come to conclude that works, is hashing out whatever issues I have with that person. In this circumstance, I'm not interested. He'll fade with time. Everything does. So on with the dream... It's sunny, warm. I'm cruising down a country highway, cornfields as far as my eyes can see. The truck is grey and splattered with rust stains. Two doors. The windows are down, I'm in the passenger seat. The driver is a male, I get the idea that we're romantically involved, but no face or name comes to mind now. We drive for a long time. We stop at a gas station on a remote back road, run by backwoods hill folk. They talk funny. I can barely understand their lingo. I faintly remember having an uncomfortably awkward conversation with the cashier, whom I recall was male. He wore bib-overalls, filthy with oil stains I believe. I got the vibe that he was maybe the mechanic there as well. My companion fills the tank, we continue on. The drive seems long in my dream world. The windows are still down. Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone" is playing. My hand is out of the window, riding the wind. There's a man on the side of the road, he is walking. There's a red gas can in his hand. He has my ex boyfriend's face. I know him in my dream. I call him by name. My companion stops the truck. We offer him a ride. I talk to the hiker, in my dream we are on good terms, like perhaps nothing unpleasant ever occurred between us. I tell him it's odd to see him here, we're so far away from home. He agrees with me, what coincidence. We chat for most of the ride, small talk. We take him back to the gas station from before. He gets out of the truck and fills up his red gas can. He goes inside to pay, but never comes out. It has been awhile, I begin to worry. My companion assures me that he must have ran into someone he knows, he's just busy talking. He leaves the truck and walks inside to get him. I'm waiting awhile, I panic again. I get out of the truck, the door closes with a loud clanky thud. The gravel crunches beneath my feet. I'm frightened. I walk into the store. The bell on the door jingles. I don't see my companion, or the hitcher. The clerk is there. He asks if he can help me, I think he notices the worried look on my face. I ask him where my friends went. He tells me no one has been in the store for days until I just walked in. He grins at me. I loathe it. His grin is malicious, I feel it down to my bones. Confused, I start to walk back outside. My finger tips skim the glass of the door. Someone is behind me. Close behind. Too close. My breathing speeds. A hand grabs me. Another covers my mouth. I bite the hand. I bite it hard, it bleeds. I turn just enough to see who the hand belongs to. It's the clerk. I remember him a bit more clearly. His face is weathered from the sun, he looks older than he is. He screams.... I'm running. I'm running as hard as my heart will pump. I just run. He's following. He follows for a long time. I run to a creek. I start to cross. The water is cold. It's heavy. As I'm wading it starts to thicken, I realize that it's freezing as I stand in it. It turns to ice. I'm trapped. It's frozen all around my feet. I scream. I claw. I claw so hard at the ice my fingers bleed. I can hear his breathing, he's gaining in on me. I keep clawing. I pound the ice with my fist. It cracks, I feel a bit of relief. My heart wants to explode. I'm crying. I'm pleading with my maker. I'll never sin again, please, please, please. I break free.

The end.