Never Signing Off

  Chapter 5 White Picket Fence I take a deep inhale before handing the joint back to him. He takes it lazily, holding it to his over-sized lips. The smoke creates a cloud between the two of us as we pass it back and fourth. I was reluctant to follow him when he arrived, but he always manages to convince me. Those deep brown eyes just pull me in, every time. I opened the gate and we started walking. It seemed that neither of us had any direction in mind, ending up at a park a few blocks away. We're sitting on opposite sides of the metal slide. We haven't said much. It's been mostly silence, but, that's enough. We don't need words. We can share comfortable silences. It's not like it is with Hunter. Now, we're watching the sun rising in the distance. It's nearing seven in the morning, judging by the position of the sun. It's still chilly out because the sun isn't high enough. I'm trying not to shake, but the joint is trembling ...

  Chapter 4 That Thing You Do I've got my eyes shut tight, trying to encourage sleep to find me in the blackness of the night. I have no idea how long I've been laying here, awake and aware. I sigh as I let my eyes flutter open, turning my head to see the clock on the bedside table. It's flashing the number 2:33, which means I've only been attempting sleep for an hour. It feels more like an eternity. Of course, Hunter went to bed at 8:30, the same time he goes to bed every night that he's here. I dropped onto the bed at the same time as him, intending to go to bed with him. It's rare that we fall asleep together. Mostly because I don't sleep. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. I hoped I would do the same, but had no luck. By 10, I was restless and picked up his copy of Invisible Monsters. I've already read it more than 20 times, but I'm always open to reading it over. Every time I catch something new and it feels like a whol...

Spoken word poetry... This is what I plan to do with my collection of lyrics, since I have no musical talent. I only care about getting the words out.

  Chapter 3 The Silence Is Killing Me I'm in the kitchen, making dinner. Hunter is leaning against the entrance to the kitchen, watching me, like I care. He's wearing faded denim jeans, hanging on his protruding hips. He's not trying to cock them the way that he is, but it's his default stance. His arms are crossed over his chest, wrinkling the aging sweatshirt he's wearing. He doesn't ask me where I went last night. I get the feeling he's waiting for me to offer the information, but I won't. I doubt he cares anyway. It may be curiosity, but it's not concern. He stopped caring a long time ago. I'm not delusional enough to think otherwise. He's got his eyes glued to the kitchen floor, like he's waiting for something to move the tiles and break him out of this world. I didn't expect him home until well after dinner, but I thought it would be nice to make him something to eat anyway. I used to do that whenever he was coming hom...

  Chapter 2 The Morning After I wake up, feeling drained of all my energy. I realize I'm laying on a phone and figure I forgot mine in the bed last night. So I pull it out from underneath me, letting out a content sigh. I don't remember much about last night. I think after Hunter went to bed, I busied myself on my computer. I remember heading to the bathroom for a glass of water. Each of my steps felt like walking on clouds. It was like I was floating away from myself. I managed to find the edge of the bed and pull myself into the sheets. Languid. Defeated. It's all a blur from there. I press my hand into the bed to try and get balance. But I feel around and realize there is more than one phone. I'm on top of what feels like a phone graveyard. A pile of phones that don't belong to me. But that's not the only thing that's strange about this bed. It doesn't feel right. It smells worse. It's full. My hand finds the body laying beside mine. It's...

  Chapter 1 A Lonely Introduction There's a purple glow illuminating my work space. It's casting a shadow, though only slightly, over my shoulder. The way it's reflecting off the mirrored dresser lights up the whole room. Suddenly, I catch my reflection in the whiteboard calendar that sits beside the bed. I see the magnet on the date. I use a magnet to tell me what day it is because I'm too scatterbrained to circle the date, never remembering to circle the following date or erase the last. Forgetting to move time ahead. This way, pulling the magnet is the easiest way to keep track of the hours rolling into days. Pushing the magnet into the empty squares that should be filled with assignments. I've got post-it notes on every corner, some scattered across the board. These are goals. Mocking me. Things I intend to accomplish this month. But, it's the end of the month and all the pieces of paper scatter the empty white squares. Reminders. The things I need to s...

UPDATE: YOU'RE GETTING ONE DAY AT A TIME THROUGHOUT JULY/AUGUST/SEPTEMBER Because I've never cared about the monetary value of anything, I'm going to be sharing my autobiography throughout the summer. Much like my other books, it will have a dedicated page that can be found on the menu.  There is no point in writing text that will never be seen... I have a second autobiography that was written as a time capsule project for myself. I'm going to combine these two books and give you an edited version. I have to edit them before posting because I didn't bother with censorship or changing the names. The memoir mentions very few people by name; The keepsake book mentions everyone in vivid detail. I'd never share that kind of information. I made damn sure when I wrote The Series that I was not using any identifying descriptors. I only use the first names, then change them to random names when I'm finished writing. I CANNOT post the series online. It will only be av...