Knives

I was told that I have changed since Dawn and I broke up. I have changed. I’d like to think I’ve changed for the better. Some people do not like it. They can’t accept the face that I am happier now, more content. I accept my place in life. I am with someone who amazes me each day. She is helping me become a better person. With her help I am beginning to see that I am worth something, that I matter. She believes in me. I miss her when I’m not around her. I have never missed anyone like this before.


I’m really sorry that you can’t just be happy for me. I do not want to be surrounded by darkness and miserable people. I want this happy contented feeling to last as long as it can. I feel like you are trying to drag me down into sadness again, and I will not allow you to do that.



Last night I dreamt about the knives again.

I stabbed myself in the chest. I stabbed my heart. I sat on the couch and watched my body die. I smoked while I bled to death on my mattress. Two days passed and my phone rang. I couldn’t answer it. Three days and my phone rang constantly. Day four it stopped. It was another 10 days before someone knocked on my door. I watched my body decompose. I watched the flies and maggots eating my body. Five more days and the police opened the door with the manager of my apartment. I walked past the police and paramedics and out the door. There was the brightest light I had ever seen. I walked down to the beach. I sat on the sand for a day or two. I stood up and walked into the ocean.