A Day at Once is going to be a story, told in the form of diary pages. What makes this project a little different is that every day (or in a consistent posting rhythm proportionate to the amount of contributors) a different person will be adding their contribution to it!
A reminder that applications are, and will be open, throughout the year! We hope to have more of you little shy beans joining us in this awesome project!
This story grows each passing day, so we are calling writers, artists, designers, poets, photographers, musicians, lyricists, “mood boardists”, etc, to join in! Whatever your trade is, we would love to feature it in a journal entry.
Hello, diary.
I'm sorry this time I took so much of you, I'll be fast.
Today at work, Leo and I talked abou KSV, and watched some of the manga's pages.
As usual with magical girls mangas, it's a bit... Darker, than what TV's adaptation shows.
Well, looks like Leo didn't knew that.
Today's sticky note was a doodle of us watching Sakura, so I drew us cosplaying.
When the shift finished, I headed back home and feeded Ember. Watching those pages made me remember my first motivations to draw. Inspired me, somehow.
So I took you and went to the canal, were we still are.
Do you remember weeks ago, when I told you about journals? How 'diary' suited you better, because people took their journals outside and stuff?
I won't stop calling you diary, it's way too settled down now to change it.
But welcome to your new life.
It's just a messy, fast sketch. And I'm lying down actually, but I couldn't make the pose right as I wanted so...
I signed it as 'Luz'. It's a friendly nick for my coworkers now, but at first, it was my artistic name. I haven't used it as such in a long time... memories come to my mind, of every painting and sketch that I signed with this name. It means 'light' in spanish. Well, I'll go back home now. It's getting late, I'm kinda tired, and maybe Ember is missing me. See you tomorrow.
- Eva.
#22
22nd of January
Today was pretty long, diary.
There was some kind of event at one of the shops nearby, so I assume that everybody and their mother's brother decided to do their shopping for dinner before they went home. We were packed all day, to the point where I didn't even have time to get the stocking done I was supposed to get done.
I ended up staying forty-five minutes after my shift to get it done.
On a positive note, that meant that the end of today's shift coincided with Leo's.
On a negative note, when I saw him, I was struck with a bolt of lightning: I had gone on a date with Leo.
We hadn't decided it was a date, not fully.
But he held my hands and taught me how to ice skate.
Was that a date? Did we... Date?!
He bought me dinner, diary!! That was bloody well a date!!
He trotted over to me with a grin on his face and I dropped the boxes of pasta I was holding. Holy god, I went on a date with him!
"Hey! What are you still doing here?" He'd asked, helping me collect the wayward pasta.
"Stalking! Stocking," I said, stacking up the boxes. "Yep. Just, uh, leftover stocking stuff. Couldn't get it done during the rush,"
"Oh, that's the worst," Leo had commiserated. "Want some help? I don't technically clock in for another fifteen or so,"
"Sure," I agreed. I knew my face was redder than red, the reddest I'd ever been, even redder than the time I'd fallen asleep on the beach.
Leo ignored how shirty I was being and just talked about a show he'd watched last night. I didn't technically have cable, as watching whatever's on at the laundromat didn't count, so I didn't know what he was talking about. But he filled me in on some of the backstory with animated hand gestures, hysterical character voices, and the occasional dynamic pose.
I don't think he ever put a box on the shelf, but the way that he set me at ease after my sudden realization helped more than he could have ever known.
My entire walk home, I thought about the date-not-date.
Leo was so relaxed during the whole thing, but I assume I had been too.
I hadn't thought that it was a date the entire time.
If I had, there was no doubt that I would have skated directly into a wall going at least Mach the fuck Five and possibly crying the entire time I did it.
I unlocked the door to my apartment and threw myself down on the couch.
What was the etiquette on this whole thing? Was I supposed to ask Leo if it was a date, or would he eventually ask me?
Were we just going to keep going on like this forever and ever until one of us wondered if we were supposed to be filing taxes together or something?
What if I asked him and he laughed at me? What if I asked him and he didn't know what I was talking about?
What if I didn't ask him and I died right here, of a heart attack?
Ember pounced on my gut, forcing me to unglue my asscheeks from the couch and feed her.
That gave me a three-minute reprieve from the unholy existential spiral I'd found myself in, but I'd made no more progress on my best course of action.
Just as I got done cleaning up after Ember dove into her food bowl, I got a text.
From Leo.
Leo: Hey, I'm on my lunch break and figured I'd give you a holler. You said you're an artist, right? I want to work on my painting skills. Want to go to the craft store with me on payday? I want a pro by my side!
I stared at my phone like it'd grown snakes for what felt like an hour before I typed back.
Me: Sure! I should get some more supplies, too. I've been getting back into the swing of things.
Leo: Great. It's a date!
I stared at the screen, frozen in place.
Dear diary, it seems that Leo answered my day-long epic saga of self-exploration, self-deprecation, and a little bit of absolute terror.
Now, I guess I have only one question.
Is Leo psychic?
--hawkwarrd
#23
Welcome to Day 23, diary, 'cause the breeze is so strong and the weather's so dark that I might have dropped you into the snow when I was rushing out the door this morning with my bag unzipped.
Just dash, drop, drown--I've left you out in the air in the sink, hopefully minimizing the damage as much as possible. Would a hair dryer help? Can I even use a hairdryer without setting it on fire?
Fire--god, I wish I had a fireplace. It's so cold. It's so fucking cold.
Round these parts it doesn't snow 'til January--dull dreary grayness throughout the December and mild-mild-mild chills until January "the Real Fucking Winter" 23rd rolls around with snow so wild I'll freeze my toes off.
I. Hate. The snow.
We're getting snowstorm warnings but I go to work anyway like how we put warnings on prescription bottles and they don't stop us all anyway and honestly? Wasn't busy, given the snow. No one wants to go around in this weather.
We closed early for the lack of traffic. I'm home now, and though your pages are water-damaged and wrinkled and stained, you're still okay. Still functional. We're a lot alike in that respects, aren't we?
I thought about writing another poem, or doodling--hell, my neighbor's kid plays their rap music so loud I considered trying to make my own. I will not. I would be a disaster--but yeah, that kid--they're probably like 13, 14, with a bad attitude and headphones too big for their face and a big button on their backpack that says THEY/THEY PRONOUNS OR I'LL KILL YOU. Their nickname changes every other day from planet names to galaxy clusters to snowflake crystalline shapes.
Their mom, Hadiza, is nicer, all on her own--a tired smile on her worn-pretty face and her hands cracking from dish soap and snow-skin, but she sometimes knocks on my door and asks me to make sure her baby got home okay while she was out at work.
sometimes i think i'd kill to have a family who loves me but that's a bad thought bad bad bad
She's nice, at least, though. When I got home she offered me some tea--you've been awfully quiet lately, Luz! Come in, I'll make you some-- all soft and warm, and well, motherly.
Made my heart hurt a little. Made some of the snow melt.
So I'm here, diary, after a lazy slow cold day, with milk tea and biscuits warming my body from my toes to the brainfreeze I caught in the winter outside.
Good days and bad days, huh, diary? Good days and bad days.
I hear the music playing up from the apartment next door again, but I don't mind it so much right now.
--redlight
#24
24th January
I was painting today after my shift at work.
That’s why I wasn’t paying attention. Why I didn’t fully look at the screen before I answered the phone.
It was set to be a good painting, I thought. I’m pretty sure I was trying to deal with what happened at the turn of the year. I was so proud of myself for picking up a paintbrush and getting into that space.
I don’t think it matters, now.
I pressed the phone to my ear, expecting Greg or Susan to be calling me to confirm my schedule for next week.
It was neither Greg nor Susan.
“Hey. I didn’t think you were going to pick up,” Nick’s voice said. “Listen, I know that you’re really mad at Dad and all,”
“That’s one way to put it,” I said, mouth feeling numb as I spoke. I wasn’t here at all. I was at the pizza shop with Leo. I was ice-skating. I was even arguing with an old lady about the price of tuna, because I wasn’t here--
“I think we need to put that aside for a while.” Nick said, sighing. “I’m at the hospital. With dad. And Mum.” He said shortly.
“The hospital?” I said, looking around. Ember sat curled up on the couch. I’d dropped my paintbrush. There’s a splatter of brown-red paint slowly seeping into the cream carpet. There goes my deposit.
“Yeah. Dad’s… Not well. Mum and I talked, and I think… We think, all of us, that you should come home.”
“I can’t.” I spat immediately. “I just… I can’t, I just can’t.”
“If it’s about money, I’ll buy the ticket.” Nick said nonchalantly. Funny, that. Who knew being His Holiness came with such a stunning salary.
“It’s not about the money and you know that.” I whispered, curling in on myself. I could barely breathe, could barely think. “What’s going on?” My morbidity asked.
Nick let out a sigh.
“Dementia, we think. He’s been asking for you.” He admitted, his voice choked. “We’re not sure how much longer he has.”
“Dementia,” I echoed. “Okay. I’ll… I need to… I have a job,” I babbled, standing then sitting immediately back down. “Can I call you back?”
“Sure. We’re going to be at the hospital all day, so even if you want to talk to him…” Nick said, trailing off hopefully.
How he wanted a perfect family.
“Right,” I said, finally choosing to stand back up. “Right.”
“Okay. Bye. I love you.”
“I… I love you, too.” I said, looking down at the phone in confusion. Nick hung up.
I felt like I’d been boiled.
Dad had been asking for me?
What did that mean? As far as I knew, he hadn’t uttered my name since I’d left the house.
Was he really dying? There was a time in my life that my father dying had been a fond dream of mine, while I was locked in my room to give me “time to think”.
Nick becoming a man of some monolithic God was hardly original. My father had been patient zero. The outbreak. The drop of contamination in the well.
Mind and body, I still bore scars from being the queer child in a House of God.
How was I supposed to go back to that? How was I supposed to care?
Nick had always behaved like I was being overdramatic, and he still was. How could he just casually call me one afternoon and ask me to go back to that place like it hadn’t ripped everything I was away from me?
The numbness I had on the phone was swept away by the tide of rage.
My father was the type to read from the Bible for our bedtime stories when we were children, to pray before dinner, to attribute everything good in our lives to God.
As a child, I was wont to agree.
All the evidence I had pointed to the affirmative. My life was good, and therefore God was good.
It was only when things started to take a turn that I found out the truth.
God made man. Man made pain. Pain made man bitter and tired.
Dear diary, I am so bitter. So tired.
Somehow, my father had found out that I was queer. I had been trying things on for size at school, trying to grow into myself in a safe space.
Soon after, the mill downsized. My father was one of the many that were turned away, no pension, no benefits.
Many people would have turned to alcohol, to drugs, to anything to make that horror seem far away for awhile, but my father turned to God.
We went to church Sundays and Wednesdays. We prayed every night, together, before bed.
I’m sure there are people out there who thrive in that environment. Nick sure had.
Me? Not so much.
Especially not when I was to blame for my father’s layoff. They laid the family’s flaws at my front door, blaming my queerness for why things were going wrong.
God is punishing me, they said. I was unnatural, they said.
Ember made a small chirrup from the couch and I looked over at her.
I couldn’t go back, I thought dumbly. They wouldn’t let a cat on the train, and Ember surely wasn’t staying here by herself.
I looked back down at the phone.
I had a few options. Running through them would help sort the cluttered stack of panicked thoughts in my mind, made frantic from a single phone call.
Option one: never call Nick back, throw my phone into the canal.
Option two: call Nick back, tell him I can’t go back, but talk to my father on the phone.
Option three: call Nick back, tell him to buy me a ticket, go back to my hometown.
Just thinking the third one made me sick to my stomach, so I crossed it off. I couldn’t do it. Not now, at least.
Option two seemed like the best way to keep everyone happy. I was the equalizer. I was the one that kept everything together.
This was my role in the family.
I picked up my phone, but instead of dialling Nick, I dialled Leo.
“Hey! What’s going on?” Leo answered. He sounded cheerful but suspicious. I would be, too. We’d only texted a few times since the date. (Not date? What the fuck ever, I’ve got other shit happening.)
“Something… crazy, honestly. Do you have a second?” The background noise on the call stopped and I heard a door close.
“Yeah. I’m all ears. What’s going on?”
I gave Leo the five-minute version of my family history, much like he’d given me over pizza. It was sanitized, but I could hear him hiss through his teeth while I recounted certain tales.
“Now he’s sick. Nick says its dementia and he wants to see me, but…”
“You can’t.” Leo said firmly.
“Right.” I agreed, folding my arm across my chest. “It would be…”
“Bad, bad, bad.” Leo said. I could nearly see him shaking his head, his hair getting in his eyes. “No bueno.”
“Nick said I could talk to him on the phone, but…”
“Do you owe him that, honestly?” Leo asked me.
“Do I owe him?”
“Yeah. It’s supposed to be just a phone call, alright, but you’re freaking out. Do you owe him your piece of mind? Do you owe any of them your peace of mind?”
What a question.
“I don’t think so.” Leo said, softly into the silence. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I can tell you that you are worthy of peace. You are worthy of happiness.”
There was a lump in my throat and I could scarcely breathe.
“I dunno if anybody ever told you that, but it’s true.”
“Thank you,” I choked out.
“Anytime. Literally, day or night.” Leo said. I heard a door bang open and someone calling his name. “I have to go back in, but are you going to be alright?”
“Yeah. I am.” I said, and I didn’t know it was true until that moment. “I think I’m going to call Nick back.”
“What are you going to tell him?” Leo asked.
“That I’m not going to talk to my father,” I said, gulping slightly around the tears that threatened to choke me. “At least not now. And I’m not going back there. Ever.”
“Good. Great,” Leo said. “Call me if you need me, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you so much,”
“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow at work, okay?’
“Okay.” I agreed again. We hung up, saying our goodbyes.
The phone lay in my hand, inert, but it felt like the potential energy contained inside of it could level a city the size of New York.
I took a deep breath, moved to the couch, and grabbed Ember around the middle. She opened an eye at me, offended, but I wrapped her sleepy, limp body around my neck like a scarf and the warmth seemed to appease her for a moment before she oozed partially down my chest, keeping her head near my chin.
With my little mascot, I opened my contacts and pressed on Nick’s.
“Hey! Are you clear to come down?” He answered.
“No, Nick. I’m not coming down.” I said firmly. The phone shaking in my hand and my other hand tangled in Ember’s fur belied my strong tone.
“What? What do you mean you’re not coming down?” I gulped at his angry voice and the sound of him walking down an expanse of tile.
“I can’t go back, Nick. I’m sorry.”
“Your father is dying and you won’t even go see him?” Nick shouted and something within me snapped.
“I was dying!” I growled. “I was dying and nobody even cared!”
“What are you talking about?”
“The entire time I spent praying for something to change inside of me, praying to be anyone else but me, I was fucking dying, Nick, and none of you gave a single shit. In order for me to survive, I can’t go back to that place.” My voice was shaking, but my hands were firm. “I’m not going to do that to myself, not again.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re seriously just being a baby? What about ‘Dad’s dying’ do you not understand?” Nick said incredulously.
“You’re not listening to a word I’ve said,” I spat, sitting forward on the couch. Ember shot me the evil-eye, but she stayed. What a good cat.
“Yes, I did! You said that you’re not going to come and see your dying father because he tried to raise you right.”
“No, I’m not coming to see the man who raised me to believe I was an abomination because I would like to live.” I growled, clenching my jaw. “I think we’re done here.”
“I think we are, too.” Nick said. “He’s going to be so disappointed.”
“So am I.”
I hung up the phone. I stood, cradling Ember in my arms. I sat back in my painting chair.
I bent, picking up the partially-dried paintbrush.
I rinsed it off, picking up more colour.
I started to paint.
--hawkwarrd
#25
Day 25.
I woke up just a few moments ago. That's why my handwriting is so sloppy. I'm sorry.
I didn't really sleep. I couldn't. All I could think about was that fucking phone call and my dad and my brother's unbearably loud voice screeching into my ear. I don't even need to read what I wrote last night again, I remember every single word like it was burnt into my brain. (I don't think I can, actually. Read what I wrote. I can't.)
Why did he even call me? Why did he have to call me?
Fuck. I don't want to go to work.
I wish I could grow vines from my body that would merge me with this bed. That's all I need. To just lie here and fucking sleep.
︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿
Update. I tried to sleep for the last 40 minutes and I couldn't. Even having Ember lying against my back didn't help.
I don't want to go to work. But I can't stay here without falling asleep. It'll only get things worse.
I just got a text from Leo. He asked if I'm okay and if I want him to call in sick for me.
You see that, diary? He cares about me more than my entire family combined. Unless he doesn't. Unless it's all a show and he actually doesn't care and nobody cares and I'll end up all alone again and my own fucking brain will keep on screaming and screaming until I take that rope again and ch
Sorry. I'm sorry. I wrote too hard and now your page is a bit ripped.
I told him I'll come.
︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿
Here we meet again diary. My damaged diary, just like me.
Today was… odd. It was… bad, but… somehow… I dunno. Sometimes it was okay, and other times… it was a disaster.
I was late to work but Greg said it was okay. He was in charge again so he put me in the cleaning product section, to put the new price stickers on the products that were on sale. Then he told me to put in the cans in order and do some stuff like that.
I went to lunch with Leo again but nothing that big this time. We sat outside and ate some sandwiches he made (they were perfect. Cheese, lettuce, tomatoes and salty butter. I couldn't ask for a better homemade lunch than that. I didn't, actually, he just brought it and shared it with me and made my morning better), and just watched the people go in front of us. We played that game I play with myself sometimes, and tried to guess where they went and why.
We saw a woman hastily talking on her phone while walking fast. Leo said she was a lawyer late for court, and I said she was just late to meet her friends somewhere.
We saw a guy and a girl (I said girlfriend, Leo said sister) sit not far from us and laughed at something they saw on their laptop. Leo said they were looking at puppy photos while I said they saw a funny post on tumblr.
We saw a guy walking slowly with a small girl, and while Leo said it was her uncle taking her to eat ice cream, I said it was her brother taking her to the near park, to ride the carousel.
Leo looked at me and asked, “what, like Holden and Phoebe from The Catcher in The Rye?”
I smiled at him, all proud that he recognized what I was talking about. “Yeah. Why not? All he needs is a hunting hat.” I said.
He laughed. “It's my favorite book, you know,” he told me.
“I know now,” I said, and he looked down shyly like only he can, with his freckled cheeks red and his green eyes hidden.
So that part of the day was the good part. The only good part.
Even before rush-hour, my luck was running out. I dropped products, I bumped into things. I discovered that I put all the sale prices in the wrong place in the morning and had to rearrange two entire sections. I was already frustrated by the unnecessary work I made for myself, and the embarrassing stuff that I did - I was not ready to spend the rest of my day there.
But I couldn't go home, either.
And then, some point in the afternoon, the store was stuffed. Since it's a Friday, everyone wanted to hurry and buy everything before the weekend.
Which is exactly why I hate Friday shifts so much.
I stood in the dairy section in the back. Once in a while, some random customer asked for help. I tried to stay friendly, at least on the outside. The noise creeped into my bones but I did my best not to let it stress me more than it already did.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and it made me jump. I looked at it and saw it was a message.
It was from Sean.
I couldn't even look at what it said. I just turned off the screen and put it back in my pocket.
At first, I didn't even notice that I was shaking. I kept on gulping and licking my lips, like I was thirsty, even though I wasn't.
Why? Why did he text me again?
My phone vibrated again (and made me jump again) - but more than once this time. Someone was calling, but I didn't want to look at it. I didn't want to see who it was, in case that it was him. I just - I couldn't handle him, I just couldn't. And I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing me break. Because that's what he did, that's what he always fucking did, what he was best at -
I couldn't calm down, even after I turned off my phone completely. I looked at other parts of the store, to see if I could see Leo, or Greg, or Susan, anybody, but I couldn't see any of them ; they were all too far away, too busy. The entire damn place was too fucking busy and I felt like it was getting too much.
I had to get out. I had to get out but I couldn't. My legs were stuck in their place and there were too many people and too much noise and too much to do.
Fuck. Even writing it now makes me want to puke.
I saw someone. Someone that looked just like him. And for a moment, I was certain that it was him, that he found me, that he actually found out where I am and that he came to get me.
I couldn't breathe. Each inhale I took felt like fire, just like my eyes did when I blinked. I couldn't hear anything but the blood that rushed in my ears. At some point I must have lost my balance cause suddenly my shoulder hurt, and when I looked to my side I saw I bumped into one of the refrigerators, but I couldn't fucking move. It was too hot and too cold at the same time and I could barely stand and I felt like my lungs were tied up and I shook like mad and my throat hurt as if I was screaming (did I? Or was it just from crying?).
Someone put their hand on my shoulder and I jumped and slapped it away. I couldn't really see properly but I just knew that people were looking at me and gathered around me and I just needed to get the fuck out of there, get away from him, get away from everybody, I couldn't fucking breathe -
Suddenly, a familiar voice reached my ear. Leo was calling my name, asking “can you hear me? Can you hear me?”
Somehow I managed to nod. I blinked through the tears and saw his huge piercing green eyes.
“Look at me,” he said, “Breathe with me. In,” he took a deep breath, “and out,” he exhaled. He repeated it slowly, just for me, until I felt the fists that squeezed my lungs gradually let go. He encouraged me and guided me until I could breathe without needing to fight for it.
I was numb, for a few moments. Or maybe in shock. But it was quiet, finally quiet, and I needed that, just for a few more minutes. I didn't even notice he took me outside.
“Here,” he whispered, and gave me a bottle of water. My hand was still shaky when I took it, and slowly soothed my sore throat with it. It helped the breathing, too.
“May I ask you what happened?” Leo asked, so gently, so emotionally. I turned to him and felt my eyes burn again. My vision was blurry with tears and I… I tried to speak. I did.
“It’s just… I thought I saw…” I bit my lip as I tried to stop myself from crying again, but it was useless. “That I saw someone that... “
I couldn’t really continue the sentence, but he got it. I looked down at the ground and when I raised my eyes back at him again, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. I leaned my forehead against his shoulder and I cried, letting the tears stream down my face and right into his shirt. I don’t even know for how long I cried but he kept on holding me the entire time. I could feel his arms fold around me, and he was just so tender, so careful, just like he could. One of his hands cupped the back of my head, and his other arm just kept me close, as if I’m going to collapse again. My fist gathered his shirt at some point, and I almost hugged him back.
I don’t know how long passed, but he didn’t let go, even when I was done. And I let him. No one ever… comforted me like that before. No hug ever felt so safe.
When I raised my head to wipe away the trails of my tears, I saw he was crying too.
“Leo…?” I blinked at him, all confused and guilty.
“No, no… it’s not your fault,” he laughed through his tears. “I just cry very easily… I just… can’t stay indifferent, you know? Especially when I know what it’s like. I’m sorry, it’s… it’s stupid.”
I managed to smile, if only for a moment. “It’s not stupid.”
He saw I was still trembling and weak, so he suggested to ask Greg to let us take the rest of the day off. “My apartment is only one bus stop away,” he told me. “You can stay in my place until you feel better.”
Despite myself, I nodded. In other situations I would’ve been awkward or flustered at such a suggestion, but… I knew I needed this. I couldn’t go back to work… and I couldn’t go back to my place. Not after this… not when the rope is in there, just a drawer away.
We went to Greg together, and Leo told him I didn’t feel well, and that he needed to escort me. Fortunately, Greg was very understanding, and let us go pretty easily.
We then went to the locker room, to take our stuff. I saw he left me a sticky note this morning, one that I didn’t notice before, and I promised myself to leave one back for him the next time I get the chance.
He paid for us both on the bus, and led me to the back door inside of it. I watched the houses and trees rush in my sight while the bus moved, and felt like they were running away from me (but Leo didn’t). Before I knew it, we reached our stop.
His apartment was on the ground floor of the first building to the left of the bus-stop. He kicked the snow that piled up by the door, pressed the numbers for the entry code and let us both in.
We both took our shoes off by the door. He hung his coat in the corner and told me to do the same. “You can put your stuff here in the corner, so everything’ll dry up,” he said. “And you can go ahead and sit on the couch, I’ll make us some tea.”
I did as he said and went to sit on the couch. I felt a bit awkward at first, and would have been much more so if I wasn’t so tired.
It was a small place, smaller than mine. He had a small kitchen just by his living room, and the bathroom was just near his bedroom. It was tidy and warmed up immediately when he turned the heater on, and just felt so… homey. The orange light from the lamp made it even more so.
“There,” he stepped slowly and put a wooden tray on the table in front of me. There were two mugs on it, and beside them, a sugar container and a spoon. “Peppermint and lavender. Do you like sugar in your tea?”
I nodded and mumbled, “one.”
He added sugar to my cup and then went to his bedroom, only to come back with a blanket. I was about to decline, but he already put it around my shoulders and it just felt so soft. The teacup warmed my hands up and I could feel myself relax, little by little.
He sat beside me and we drank our tea in silence.
“I’m sorry… about all this.” I finally managed to say, somehow. Words never came out easily for me after a panic attack.
“No, don’t be. Please,” Leo told me. He brought his legs up and bent them flatly on the couch, with his knees turning towards me. “I’m glad to help. And I want you to know that you don’t need to feel obligated to explain anything, okay? I know you explained a little before but if you’re not comfortable with elaborating, then I respect that. I just want you to feel… safe. Do you feel a bit better now?”
I nodded and brought the mug up to my lips again. After a few more gulps, I could feel that the herbs were actually helping. “Thank you…”
“Of course.”
We finished our beverages and continued to sit there, comfortably silent. Then we talked for a while, about other things. Leo showed me some photos of his sisters and his dog. In turn, I turned on my phone, swiped away the message notification (and the missed call one) so I won’t have to see it every time I look at the screensaver, and showed him the only picture I had of Ember. He said she was the sweetest kitten he’s ever seen. I told him how I adopted her and promised to take some more photos to show him.
I spent much more time there than I thought I would. It was already dark outside when I decided I should go. Even though I ended up napping there for a while before that. He didn’t even wake me; when I woke up on my own from my dreamless sleep, he said he didn’t mind. He had a book on his lap and his phone beside him.
“Besides… it’s nice to have someone around here. You’re the first visitor I have here.” He said. It somehow made me feel a bit… special.
Not long after that, I put my coat on and took my things. He suggested taking me home, but I didn’t want him to bother that much for me.
Apparently he was very stubborn when he really wanted to be.
“I’m not letting you go all the way by yourself, not when it’s so cold, and not in this hour. I have my car here, I’ll take you.” He said.
Before I could say no again, he already put his shoes and coat on (I didn’t bring my own car to work today so I didn’t have any other excuse).
Leo’s car is small and old, but functions well. He said his oldest sister left it for him, and that’s why there also was a leftover smell of cigarettes (Leo hates that smell. Good thing neither of us smokes) that he tried to mask with an air freshener. I told him my address, and we were good to go.
The roads were almost completely empty. People in this town don’t use their cars much, not for Friday nights anyways. Most of the bars and pubs are in the center.
I fell asleep during the ride, and before I knew it, Leo woke me up to let me knew we arrived. His hand was gentle and warm against my shoulder, and for a moment, I was tempted to invite him in.
I couldn’t, though. I didn’t want him to see that shithole. Not tonight.
I put my hand on the handle, but I didn’t open the door just yet. I licked my lips nervously and looked down, a bit in a loss of words. I wanted to thank him again, I wanted to tell him that I have no idea where I’d be by now if he wasn’t there, but… somehow, I didn’t find the right words, at the time.
I looked at him, and he smiled in understanding.
And then he hugged me. It was a bit uncomfortable, because of our sitting position in the car, but it wasn’t unwelcomed. It was a different kind of hug than before, but it still felt… protective. Safe. I liked it. (I didn’t want it to end)
I tried to make a lame joke before I let go completely. I don’t even remember the exact phrasing cause it was that lame, but it was something like, “I’d invite you in but I’m late on feeding my cat and I don’t want my first visitor to be eaten alive…”
At least it made him laugh. His clear, beautiful laugh that you can just tell it’s so sincere. Even from a stupid joke, just like that.
We said goodbye and I got out, and he waited until he saw me getting into my house before he drove away.
I fed Ember. I changed into my jacket-and-random-pants pajamas…
And that’s it. The most roller-coaster day I’ve had in a long while.
I decided to keep my phone as far away from me as I could tonight, and put it to charge in the socket on the other side of the room. If I don’t hear the alarm, at least I’ll have Ember to fill in for it.
So maybe this morning wasn’t the only good part of the day today…
And at least now, I can try to have some sleep. Who knows. Maybe I’ll manage, this time.
- hadar
#26 - BLANK DAY
#27
I may or may not have spent most of yesterday in bed.
I did. I only got up to pee and take a shit.
I needed the rest, though maybe not as much as I got. The more I slept the more I feared waking up, and every time my eyes flickered closed like old lamps in desert hospital hallways, I found myself where I didn’t want to be.
My mind took me there, diary. I saw him in his deathbed, and he extended his hand to me. Hands that were heavy on my body, weakened by delusion, perhaps seeing a child he no longer had but pretended God was merciful enough to grant him the vision of my presence nevertheless.
”My beautiful child,” he whispered in a voice that used to tuck me in bed until it became coated in venom. He was glad to see that my hair is short now; he always said that I shouldn’t have it as long as I liked it at the time, that I’d spend more water washing it and each extra dollar towards the water company was one less dollar towards the church charity pot on Sunday. For a brat of fifteen, it made me want to grow it over my shoulders, only to taunt him. Every day he pointed out that it had grown and laughed about it. Playfully, for anyone who didn’t know better, but each low chuckle was a warning I chose to ignore for the sake of rebellion. I’ll never forget the day when he grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerked me backwards and cut it himself. One swift, clean lick of a scissors.
But that’s straying from the point. In this… fucked up psychic dimension that was my dream, my father extended his hand to me and said he missed me.
He fucking missed me…?
Nick was there too, smiling with his hands resting on our mother’s padded jacket. She smiled too, head tilting to the side as it always did, nails long and pointy, polish of a color that looked ridiculous in a woman of her age, fingers adorned with jewels we could never afford so she took to her own measures to have other men paying for them on the side.
”My beautiful child, please… Come closer.”
In my dream - I was nauseated, choking on bile, my stomach twisting and revolting at the mere thought of being touched by those calloused hands again - I walked to him. I let him fuck no FUCK get away DON’T TOUCH ME touch me and he guided me closer to him, pulling me until he could reach my face and he SHIT STOP PLEASE DON’T DO THIS PLEASE I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE kissed my forehead. ”My beautiful child,” he said again, ”I’m glad that God gave me a chance. I’m glad that God gave me you.”
His hands - weaker than before, one of them connected to a serum pumping machine - curled around my neck. The grip was fragile, barely even squeezing, but I was contorting already, quivering in anticipation, feeling my air lines cutting in advance, heart bursting frantically as if it were scared to be beating for the last time and it was.
”But you’re broken, my child, you’re twisted into a monster. But that’s okay. God will save you just like he saved me.”
The ghost whips of a leather belt stung on a skin that never forgot the pain, a mind that struggled to keep up to the “treatment”, to the sick… attempt at “fixing” something that I had no control over. In my dream I was crying, and I woke up crying just as hard.
Ember, perhaps unknowingly, purred a soothing melody as she curled up to me. It was a song I never heard, but I sobbed against her fur until she tri-pawed away to chase a fly. I was calmer by then, arguably sober in a mental sense, the aftermath of the dream pressing my body further under the sheets.
I found myself wondering why I kept the rope. Was it a trophy to remind myself that my cursed timeline could have ended but I pushed through like a champ? Or was it just so I could fantasize about having it around my neck again? I weighed a few thoughts on the second option.
I heard footsteps on the hallway and my heart stilled. I knew it couldn’t be him, but I still hid until I heard a familiar voice.
“Rise and shine, sugar plum.” Greg said from the other side of the door, choosing to tap a few knocks on the surface of the door over ringing the annoying buzz of the bell. I appreciated that, and he knew so.
Greg… He doesn’t talk much. But he always says what I need to hear, even if I don’t want to hear it. Today’s “I don’t want but I definitely need” was, “I’m picking you up for lunch.”
He introduced himself to and played with Ember while I showered and got dressed.
Sunday meals at Greg’s were the absolute opposite of what I used to have back home in Arizona; he had so many people over on the weekend I often considered it smothering. His living grandma on his dad’s side, his parents and parents in law, brothers, sisters, nephews, and sometimes the lonely neighbour who had lost his wife to cancer and always repeated the story of how they had met, over and over, until he saw at least one eye around the table getting teary. Greg’s partner was always there too, of course.
My family was never that large, but the silence and the mandatory praying and the television weather report and the roast and the elephant in the room everyone refused to acknowledge, it was all so suffocating--
Me and Greg met online when I was a dumb kid of twelve, playing with an online mask of a twenty year old. It was a thing us stupid kids did back then, trying to be grown ups where no one could prove that we were simply trying on a shoe a few sizes too big for our tiny feet. Greg, he was twenty-one at the time and had just finished high school a few years late, but it was done and that was all that mattered. He tried for college but never made it in. He doesn’t regret it.
He found out about the almost-catfish a few weeks after we started talking, but he never brought it up. Again, he never says anything he doesn’t have to. We spoke every now and then and when I noticed, I had stopped pretending I wasn’t myself.
I told him about wanting to leave my house. He understood.
He’s the reason I had somewhere to stay after I ran away from my family. From Sean. This apartment, in fact, belonged to his younger sister, before she moved to Europe with her fiance. He’s the reason I even have a fucking job. I can never thank him enough for everything he did for me without me ever asking.
That’s probably why I never say no to him.
Today, it was just us. No overly large family. Just… us. Family, too, in a way.
“Andy’s gone out with his college buddies. Some sort of weekend-long bonding camping trip. He sent pics, you can see them on my phone if you want? It’s over there.” He said as he chopped an onion without looking at the cutting board. I feared for his fingertips, but years of practice had him confident in his technique.
Ah yes. Greg? He cooks amazingly. He and his husband are gym-pumped vegan beasts, and most people would scrunch their noses at being presented with a dish of soy over beef, but the way he seasons the food is just-- chef emoji, super yum, 100/10, putting Rich Landau’s worldwide famous plant based meals to shame. I could drool all over a plate before eating it - ravishing it, rather. I hate carrots, but Greg’s roasted carrot purée is crazy d i v i n e and I could feed on nothing but that for the rest of my pitiful life.
I should have taken a picture à la Instagram, dear diary, but I left my phone charging at home, so I’ll have to leave it for another day. He promised he’d have me over more often, even when I said he didn’t have to. He insisted that he wanted to have me there. That I was always welcome. I pretty much only needed to say the word and he’d have a front door key ready for me.
We ate (have I mentioned how bloody DELICIOUS it was???), he made a stupidly quick yet delightful dessert and we lazed the day away in the couch, his arm around me, my head on his shoulder, our legs up on the coffee table (if Andy were there, he wouldn’t approve of that). Both of us had already watched that Schwarzenegger movie like eleven times, but still we sat through it until we fell asleep.
I had no nightmares.
When we woke up, it was to a key on the front door and Andy walking in. He had a whole bunch of new pictures and stories to share. It was dinner time by then, and even though I wasn’t too hungry yet, I could never say no to more of that meal, so we ate leftovers from lunch and heard all about his adventures with people I never knew of.
Greg drove me back home close to midnight with a tupperware full of another portion of his food. Before he drove off, he asked me, with all sincerity, if I was okay.
Diary, I wanted to lie and say “yes”. I always did, it was a reply that came out on autopilot. That I was fine and that the embarrassing panic attack I had on Friday was caused over some stupid anxiety, nothing I couldn’t get over with a little more sleep and more of that purée.
But I thought of Leo. How concerned he was. I thought of my day with Greg, how I owed him so much but he never asked for anything at all, and I thought of the amputee cat waiting for me to feed her just upstairs. I thought of how much of a carcass I was in the lonely night of December 31st 2018, how I was so prepared to embrace death as one last attempt at feeling anything at all and how I stood up to Nick like I had been too much of a coward to do before.
And then I said yes. And when I said yes, diary, I said it because I meant it. In Greg’s smile, I noticed he too noticed.
When I got home, I petted Ember, fed her, but she barely ate, choosing to follow me around and rub on my legs instead. I unplugged my phone off the charger to open my messaging app and read Leo’s concerned texts and reply to them as fast as my cold fingers could type on the screen of my smartphone.
Pressing backwards when I waited for a reply, my eyes drifted down to see one text from Susan - missed call - and the one from Sean’s number. I found myself praying, for the first time in a very long time.
I prayed that it wasn’t true. I prayed that I read them wrong, that it was the wrong number, that it meant nothing. But I read those words again and again, and they were right there. Mocking me. Taking whatever security I had gained over foundations of sand and crashing them down like a salted wave of restlessness. Greg was one phone call away, but my phone fell on the floor and cracked the screen and I couldn’t find it through my tears.
XXX-XXX-XXX: I found you.
Dear diary. That rope on my drawer is suddenly looking very inviting again.
#28
Day 28. (somehow)
I woke up so many times at night, I can barely call it sleep. Even now, after I put my phone on the other side of the room again, that message still haunts me. Mocks me. Whispers in my ear like a damn ghost, settling in my head like a tumor. Like only he can do.
As I said before. He wasn't the only reason, but he had a huge part in my decision to leave. I can't even elaborate on that, it'll make me - it'll make me want to rip you apart, diary, and I can't do that. Not to the only thing I can rely on with my thoughts and secrets.
Dammit.
Knowing that he found me gives me such chills, I can barely write properly. I tried doing those breathing exercises Greg had taught me but nothing helps.
I want the ground to swallow me whole. I want a lightning to strike me right here and now. I want…
I don't know what the fuck I want.
What do I do now? Do I run away again? Do I wait and see what happens? Do I call him and tell him to leave me alone no, hell no. Definitely not. Not gonna happen. If I listen to his voice, I'll scream.
Fuck him fuck him fuck him. Why can't he just leave me alone? Why can't he just let me be and let me move on with my life?
It hasn’t been this long since the year started. But I finally have something good here, you know? I have Leo and Greg and my job and Ember. I have the lake to sit by and the park to go through to local events.
I have my freedom, something I used to only fantasize about not even that long ago. Finally, I can choose where to go and what to do; not my dad, not my brother and definitely not him. Neither of them controls me anymore. None of them can tell me who I am and who I should be.
At least… That's what I want to believe, diary. That's what I want to believe.
… I hate him. I hate that he makes me feel so weak and confused. I hate that with three little words, he can crush me into dust and take away the one thing I ever wanted.
To feel safe.
My phone made that special sound I put especially for Leo so I'd know that it's him. He said good morning and sent a cute lion emoji instead of his name.
I'll get ready for work soon.
︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵
Even going to work was a nightmare. That text Sean sent me was stuck in my head, and I couldn't shake the feeling that with every step I made, he made two. It made me anxious. The only good thing about the cold and the snow was that it somehow managed to chill my body, even underneath my coat, because it was too hot even in that weather.
I had to stop thinking about it.
Not long before I needed to start my shift, I bought myself some coffee and some cookies to share with Leo and Sylvia at work. When I got there, I left him a sticky note like I promised myself I would, and he himself showed up not long after me. We shared some cookies and talked, then I gave the rest to Sylvia. She said she'd bring them to her grandchildren, cause chocolate-chips cookies are their favorite.
The shift was rather calm today. Not many people are coming on Mondays, especially not in this weather, so we mainly focused on cleaning and organizing things (it was nice to keep myself occupied, otherwise I'd probably had another panic attack by then). I spent most of the time with Leo while Sylvia was in the cash stand. The three of us had a lunch break together after that, because she insisted and we didn't have the heart to say no. Turned out she brought enough food to feed an elephant, and we ate much more than either of us hoped.
I'm so grateful I had their company today. It didn't undo what Sean did, and let me tell you, I will most likely think about it every day because I can't stand the thought of him trying to find me, maybe he's even watching me-- but… they did help me, a lot. Having them with me kept me… sane.
I jumped when I got a message on my phone later in the afternoon, but luckily, it was safe this time. It was Simon, one of the people that volunteer with me in the animal shelter (he's a bit of a dick, but all in all he's okay). He said he broke his arm so he won't be able to be around in the near future. We're pretty much always short on staff, especially ever since the snow started, and our manager, as understanding as she was, kind of freaked out about losing another volunteer. She really cares about the animals in the shelter - she's the one who brought in most of them.
Turning to Leo was my first and only option.
It was towards the end of his shift that I asked him if he wanted to meet me up later and go with me to the shelter. To my surprise (or maybe not), he immediately agreed, and even offered to buy some stuff on his way to get me.
It was only me and Sylvia until I she'd give me the o.k to go, and that entire time I did my best to remain somewhat busy, to keep my mind from wandering towards those three cursed words I have on my phone.
So I drew. I drew the store around me to the tiniest detail. I drew Sylvia sitting behind the counter, writing stuff in her notepad.
I drew Leo out of memory. That one I kept in my locker, later.
Leo came to get me around 7pm. When I got into his car, I saw he bought much more than any other volunteer I've met until now. When I asked him about it, he said most of the things were stuff he found in one of his sisters’ bags in his apartment, and the others he bought on the way. He refused to tell me how much it cost so I wouldn't be able to pay back some of the money he spent. I gave him the instructions on how to get there while we were on our way, and he was glad to see part of the city he didn't get the chance to see before.
Later, he stuttered something that I didn't understand at first, and he blushed even more when I asked him what he said. “I - I asked if you're still up to go out with me to the art store on our payday?”
I choked on my own saliva and coughed like crazy for a whole minute. He told me to take his bottle of water from his bag behind me, and while I did, it finally occurred to him that what he said was… That. He began to apologize and say he didn't mean to make me uncomfortable, but I somehow managed to tell him that it was alright. He even said I could call it off if I wanted to, but I told him I never said no. When he turned quiet, I knew it was because he was flustered, even when I didn't look. So I said, “You know, payday is the day after tomorrow… so I guess we can go then.”
He quietly agreed, and right before our silence could become awkward, we arrived at the shelter.
I introduced him to the manager, Georgia, and she showed us in instantly after we brought her the all the stuff Leo brought. She asked me about Ember and I showed her the most recent photo I took. She was more than happy to see the cat already looked bigger and healthier. She said she liked really happy to be with me (I'd like to believe that, too).
Leo loved it there. He was so excited to help so many kinds of animals in one place, and he was actually good at it. He was charmed by Georgia's story of how she opened this place last spring, all on her own, and how she managed to keep it stable up until now.
I showed him Shelly, the conure that's still really fond of me, but she didn't like him very much. She even tried to bite his finger (how can anyone not like Leo, I will never know).
We spent our time there helping Georgia around until the shelter closed at 9pm. Then we went to grab something to eat (ate Chinese takeaway in his car) and Leo drove me back home.
He stopped me before I got out of his car, by gently putting his hand just above my elbow.
“S-so… the day after tomorrow. Right?” he asked. Maybe he was still feeling bad that he called it a “going out” thing, but… it was cute. That he wanted to just make sure, I mean.
“Yeah. The day after tomorrow,” I confirmed. I smiled at him and that seemed to put his mind at ease.
And now I'm right here, diary, writing to you in a slightly better mood than I was this morning.
I'm kind of excited about tomorrow. More than kind of, actually. I'll go out with Leo and we'll have fun.
But if I'll be honest, I'm… I'm scared. I am. I never admitted that and I didn't think I would, but… You're the only one I can say that to. I don't know what I'll do if the messages continue, or if Sean starts to call more often. Fuck, I don't know what I'll do if he ever shows up.
But for now… I need to keep it together. For my own sanity, at least.
Or at least, I need to try.
-hadar
#29
One of these days, I am going to wake up and my first thoughts won’t go to the noose in my drawer.
Today is not one of those days.
I feel like someone is playing tug-of-rope, and I’m neither on the winning side nor the losing side.
I’m the rope.
One moment, I’ll feel like things are looking up. Like things aren’t all that bad.
The very next I’ll remember the missed calls and the texts on my phone.
It appears that ignoring Sean only made him worse. As I stood at the cash register, I was sure that my phone was ringing off the hook in my locker.
Leo seemed to notice how distracted I was and he kept eyeing me between customers. He’d look like he decided on what to say, but once we were alone, he changed his mind.
I didn’t blame him. I had to look like some kind of wraith, haunting register number three in a fugue.
He broke when we went on lunch together when Sylvia came in.
“Are you okay?”
Something in my locker buzzed.
“I—”
Something in my locker buzzed.
“You’ve been a little out of it all day,” Leo said, tossing his head.
Something in my locker buzzed.
That was an understatement, I thought.
Something in my locker buzzed.
I must have looked like I was on another planet.
Something in my locker buzzed.
‘A little out of it’ was such a nice way to put it.
Something in my locker buzzed.
“Should you… Get that?” Leo asked.
I snapped.
“No!” I shouted, standing up and slamming my hands on the table. Leo flinched back, eyes wide in surprise. “If I get it, I’m going to throw it into the canal and I’m going with it,” I snarled.
Something in my locker buzzed.
Leo stood up and walked over to my locker, pulling out my phone.
“Who the hell is calling you like this?” He asked, holding it out from his person like it was poisoned. “You have forty missed calls. It’s not your brother, is it?”
“No,” I whispered. “It isn’t.”
“You don’t have to tell me, but feel free on the walk.”
“The walk?” I said dumbly. He thrusted his jacket at me.
“The walk. I’m going to find Greg. Put this on.”
He stalked out of the lunchroom. He looked livid and I wondered how I could have pissed him off so quickly, so easily.
I hoped he’d at least let me down easy.
Leo came back, Greg in tow.
The phone was still ringing.
“You guys can take the day.” Greg said, giving me a worried once-over. I still held my jacket, standing in the middle of the lunchroom. “I’ll work the registers. Don’t worry about clocking out.”
“Thank you,” Leo said, voice still a little clipped. “C’mon. Out you get.”
I followed Leo as I climbed into my jacket. He still held my phone, and he looked down at the screen.
“Calling again.” He snarled, his upper lip curling. Where was shy, gentle Leo? “This is gonna stop. Now.”
“What are we doing?”
“We’re going to the store and changing your number.” Leo said, full of piss and vinegar. “I don’t know who Sean is, I don’t care who Sean is, but you look miserable and I’m not going to sit here and watch someone harass you like this. Fuck him, fuck this phone, fuck the black cloud that’s been around you all day,”
He ranted, turning down the street toward the cell phone branch.
“God, fuck this.” He finished, shaking the phone in front of him with a snarl.
“Are you… Okay?” I asked, slowing my walk. Leo had marched out of the store with a vengeance, setting a breakneck pace toward the store. He slowed with me and shot me a confused look.
“Am I okay? What about you?” He asked, a little more of the gentle Leo that I knew. “I’m sorry, I should have asked before I went on a crusade…” He trailed off.
“No, no. I really appreciate this, honestly.” I admitted. “I wouldn’t have done this by myself.”
“How long has this been going on?” Leo held open the door to the store for me.
“A few days.” I said, tossing my shoulder like I hadn’t lost sleep over this.
“A few…! Okay, yeah, this is getting done today,” He said, marching up to the desk.
The clerk looked a little overwhelmed at the start, but Leo eventually calmed down enough to stop turning to me and reading me the riot act mid-transaction.
A few of Leo’s greatest hits:
“I don’t know who this person is, but they don’t get to call you a thousand times and make you feel like shit, okay?” --While the woman was asking for my customer information
“Who would even harass you anyway? You’ve never done anything wrong in your life!” – After we’d handed the phone over
“I bet they don’t even have anything to say. This is illegal! Do they know that? We should go down to the police after this, I bet Greg would come, Sylvia too, we would all go with you,” –As she was waiting for Sean to stop calling so that she could access the settings in my phone
Once the whole thing was said and done, we’d been there a half hour. I felt like a flannel, wrung out and left to dry.
Tired, exhausted, and thoroughly told off, but… Good.
Having Leo make a big deal out of this and validate my panic over the past few days felt… Good. I thought I’d been making a big deal out of nothing, acting like a baby, but watching Leo, calm, gentle, Leo, fly into a fit over a few phone calls was somehow far more comforting than I’d ever thought.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Leo said, taking the phone back and turning to me.
“Can I go home?” I asked, taking the proffered mobile.
“Of course. I’ll walk you.”
We were quiet for a few blocks, Leo’s righteous rage stemmed for the time being.
“I didn’t overstep, did I?” Leo finally asked. My apartment building was in sight.
“No. I… Thank you.” I said, looking down at my feet. “Thanks for caring.”
“You deserve somebody to care about you, okay?” He said gently, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Whatever this is, you don’t have to tell me right now, but whatever it is, you don’t have to do it alone.”
“I’ll tell you.” I promised. “Just not right now, okay? I’m… Exhausted.” I admitted.
“That’s understandable. I already have your number, so call me if you need anything. Or if whoever that was calls back. Alright?”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” Leo said, chuckling. “Get some sleep. Big day tomorrow, eh?”
“Art shop!” I said, twinkling my fingers with a smile.
“Art shop… Date.” Leo said, stiltedly. He inclined his head. “If that’s okay?”
“That’s… Okay.” I said, fighting a smile and nodding. “It’s totally okay.”
“Okay,” Leo said, perking up slightly. “Okay! Okay,”
“Okay,” I laughed. He stopped and shook his head at the absurdity of our conversation.
“Okay!” He said, breaking into a big smile and laughing with me.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll pick you up?” He said, hopefully. I grinned one last time.
“Okay.”
--hawkwarrd
#30
Wednesday. January 30th.
I don’t know why, but I woke up feeling a lot better today.
I’m not sure what it was; maybe it was the sheer caring Leo had shown in helping me deal with Sean yesterday. Maybe it’s the thought of our date (our date, diary) later today (today!), or the fact that I actually got out of bed at a reasonable hour this morning, or… I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to. It’s the first time I’ve been mildly happy in… years, honestly, I can’t remember the last time I was – was I ever – I can’t- I don’t know I should know and I’m not about to question it.
I think if I mention it anymore it’s going to go away.
And it almost does. The thought of the past few days come crashing down, and it takes all my energy to push them away. Even then they don’t leave entirely – how could they?
Sean still knows where I am, doesn’t he or did he never know in the first place?
What could have happened if Leo and Greg weren’t there.
Honestly, as cliché and stupid as it sounds (and sorta makes me feel) he – Leo -- reminds me a bit of a prince. I mean, have you seen him? Messy perfect-length light-brownish, hint-of-red hair, (not to be confused with an artful mess, just… a mess) -- how did he even see someone like me? It’s only a year’s difference but I feel so much older than him sometimes not to mention we have similar music tastes (I found out randomly during one shift that we both liked indie, alternative, and electro swing).
Good god, if I don’t get out of this house now I’m going to die, aren’t I.
The whole day seems to stretch by slowly, so slowly, until finally I look up from my pile of video games and books and lock eyes with the clock.
2:40, twenty minutes before I’m supposed to pick up Leo from the store.
I mean – it’s not like we set a particular time or anything. And.. he did say he was going to pick me up. But I know he gets off at 3:00 and it’s only a ten minute walk to the art store from there, and… I may or may not have wanted to stop by and walk there with him.
It’s stupid.
And yet, only a few seconds later, I find myself tugging on a sharp, patterned shirt and – whatever else it is when people want to impress their art store dates.
I’m hopeless, aren't I?
I pull into the store parking lot at 3:01 and see Leo walking out the door, finding myself running to catch up with him before he disappears into the crisp air and I have to walk by myself all the way there (because seriously? How weird would that look? Fuck my life but no way is that happening). His eyes light up with surprise and a little bit of pleasant happiness at my sudden appearance as I slide up next to him, looking at me as the cold turns his nose and ears an adorable but subtle shade of red. Or maybe that’s just me?
“Hey,” he huffs, eyes sparkling, a little more forcefully than he needs to so he can watch his breath become visible. It’s not freezing, but it is January, and thus a bit chilly. Definitely medium-heavy coat weather, which… given from the light one he’s wearing, he doesn’t seem to have realized. Oh well.
“Hey,” I muse awkwardly in response. My lungs burn a bit from my sprint across the parking lot but I don’t care.
We fall into comfortable silence, neither knowing what to say. It’s only seven minutes before I see the art store a small ways ahead and glance at him and his strange green eyes, my question rolling off my tongue as we approach our destination. “What kind of art do you like making? Or,” I correct myself, “I guess, what would you like to make?”
He looks a bit startled, like he hadn’t even considered that. “I’m- not sure. I used to sketch a lot more when I was younger, but I- fell out of practice. A lot of it was pretty bad anyhow.” This time the red across his cheeks is a definite blush, and I think it’s so cute I might be blushing myself.
I feel so detached from the events of the last few days and, from the sheer calmness he’s displaying, he does too. It seems like so much drama has happened that even the cool (but not frozen, like that around us only moments ago) rush of air as we step inside the store makes me grin, and I look at him. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we? I mean, who goes to an art store as their second date?”
He grins right back at me. It feels… neat inside, and I suddenly realize what it’s been that made me feel so happy the whole day.
I haven’t been in an art store in ages.
And this is the first time I’ve ever been in one with someone I care about.
Someone who cares about me.
After all, Sean hardly counts.
“I know, right?” Leo looks just as excited as I am. His response fell so in time with my thoughts that I’m taken aback for several seconds before realizing he’s just responding to my earlier joke.
︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵
We leave the store almost two hours later (to be fair, we looked at everything), me with
some new paints at my side and some good pencils, pens, and a sketch pad at Leo’s. Neither of us have mentioned the past few days – if we want to be happy, I imagine, it should be now. It’s a date; Me and Leo (Leo and I) and the art store, not… Leo and me and the art store and… everything else. God, what have I dragged him into? He doesn’t- he doesn’t need this.
But he must notice the death of my slight smile because his slips away too, and he purposefully yet gently bumps into my shoulder with a concerned twist of his expressive eyebrows. “Hey, you okay, Luz?”
Am I ever?
I’m trying to push the emotions away, far away. I can’t let them ruin this moment. It’s too important to me. Leo’s… too important to me. “Yea,” I say, observing the air from my mouth as it becomes visible just like he did when I first caught up with him. I get a strange feeling.
It’s obvious he doesn’t buy it and he, being no-one else but Leo, stops with a worried (and then understanding) shift in his eyes. “Is- this about yesterday? Because I- I did say I was- again, I’m- sorry if I overstepped- “
“No, it’s not… I dunno. The past few days have just been… insane. It’s terrifying. And… I’m scared. Of what that’ll make me do.”
Leo shuffles where he’s standing. It’s not an alarmed sort of shuffle, merely a sad one, as if he knows what I’m referencing and is familiar with the emotion(s) I’m trying to convey. It makes my heart break a little bit. No-one should have to understand. “Yea.”
“But I’m glad- that you’re here. You don’t have to stay, but you do.” I stop speaking there because I’m upset I might reveal a bit too much. It’s startling how fast the mood changed.
“Well, you’ll always have me.”
It’s so quiet I wonder if I made it up entirely or if I just misheard what he said. Part of me hopes it was really what he meant to murmur, even if the rest of me feels too fuzzy inside at the hummed declaration to have an opinion yet.
Then the moment has passed and he looks like he did before, flashing me a grin as he continues walking towards the store where are cars are at. I let it go and fall into step behind him. “Want me to drive you home?” He asks, twirling to walk backwards so he can watch my expression as I answer.
“Okay.”
The air around my house, I know, is no different than the air anywhere else, but it… experiences unique. Leo doesn’t mention the fact that I live in an apartment (because why should he, my mind supplies), instead focusing on teasing me about my hair (which now looks as bad as his). I’m tempted to point out his light jacket in return, because honestly it’s been bothering me since the beginning, but I leave it alone with a smile.
“I had a good time,” he suddenly says. I look over at him.
“So did I,” I respond, softly. I think it comes out a lot less awkwardly than I considered it might.
“We should do it again.”
“I agree.”
So, nervously, he glances at me, and moves a little closer. (Finally, that sense of awkwardness I’ve been waiting for this whole damn date fills me). I know what he’s doing.
And then he does it.
It’s quick, almost misses because he’s shaking a bit. It’s clear this isn’t his first kiss, just as it isn’t mine – but this one seems like it matters. A lot more.
Then he waves, even though we’re a foot apart now, and just hums “I’ll see you at work?” before sprinting across the apartment parking lot, back to his car and away from me.
- sher
#31
Day 31
The end of January. For most people, that means the end of striving for a New Year’s Resolution, or the beginning of a next phase, or the beginning of the end of something. Anything.
For me, I feel like it’s the end.
The end of… Something.
My phone was quiet for most of the morning. I worked until two today, then went home and fed Ember, puttering around making lunch for myself and tidying up.
I sat down and painted for a while, not really striving for anything but to get colour on the canvas. It looks like the stuff that I used to do while still in school. Not bad, just… Different.
January 31st feels like the end. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever, yet not long at all.
Time has moved so slowly. Every day felt like a decade, but it still feels like only hours ago that I had that rough rope fixed around my neck and the cool wood of the chair beneath my feet. Thirty-one days.
A century.
You are only thirty-one days old, dear diary, and yet I feel like you know me more than any other force on the planet. You are older than time. Older than myself. Civilizations were born and died in your lifespan, watching over each of these thirty-one days with the cool composure of a stone sentinel. Never offering your wisdom, nor telling my secrets.
The secrets, the musings, the crossed-out, scribbled words kept beneath your bindings carry more weight than Atlas carried on his shoulders.
For me, anyway.
To a random passer-by, to a person on the street, they are meaningless. Imperceptive eyes would skim past, reading the words written on my heart turned inside-out and wonder what they could mean. One could look up each word in a dictionary, find the definitions and the nuances in the English language, but would one find the meaning?
Do they mean much to you, diary? Are your arms tired and your back strained from carrying the leaden words I’ve scrawled upon you in a fever-pitch haste to exorcise them from myself?
Some days I wonder if this is better for me than simply allowing everything to pass me by.
Writing it down makes all of these things seem real. It gives the passing of time sustinence, body, a corporeal form to drift through this apartment, just as much of a resident as Ember or myself.
Thirty-one days.
Thirty-one more opportunities for quiet car conversations. For walking around an art store and feeling like touching everything, dreaming up ways to use it, ways to craft it, ways to make it mine. For pizza, for ice skating, for crying on the small streets.
For being held.
For holding.
Thirty-one more days to allow the dust to gather on that length of rope.
Thirty-one more mornings to watch as other people go about theirs.
Thirty-one more evenings to sit and listen to the city while I make dinner.
Thirty-one more afternoons to actually create, something I haven't done properly in years.
Dear diary, here’s to the next thirty-one.
--cryptidkickflip
January eleventh. How weird is it that eleven days ago, I almost didn't make it?
I still haven't told anyone else about that whole event but you, diary. Are you a journal or a diary? I'm not actually sure what the difference is.
I think I'll keep calling you a diary because 'journal' sounds too organized and official. Journals are places where people keep track of the important things in their life and plan their weeks or something shiny and special.
Right this very moment, you're a diary. Sorry to say it, pal.
Hopefully soon, you'll be a journal, and hopefully we're both around the see it.
Today, I worked a morning shift. People are just as inane about their produce at six in the morning as they are at six at night.
When I was stocking the home goods section, I saw the cleaning supplies and they caught my eye. When was the last time I'd cleaned my apartment?
A month? Two?
I thought about what would happen, should I ever get the heart to ask Leo over for dinner or a film or something. There's a good possibility that a dust bunny would swoop out from under the couch at eat him, boots and all.
Ember must be a fierce little thing to have combated them this long, after all.
On my way out from my shift, I picked up a few necessary supplies. I stood in the aisle and took the time to sniff a few things, thinking about how my apartment would soon smell like this or that instead of... Depression den and tinned tuna?
I bustled in the door with the goods and Ember scattered, running to hide under the bed. Don't worry, Ember. I want to hide under there, too.
I'd been really letting the place have it for about an hour when I realized I was out of paper towels and figured I'd just stop back in at work to grab a pack and consider getting something that isn't rice and tuna for dinner.
I went back into the store and picked up the paper towels, as well as some chicken (which was the special this week, not the damned tinned sausages), some cheese, a can of sauce, and a box of pasta, intending on making chicken parmigiana.
Leo waved me into his line.
"I got your note," I opened as Leo began scanning my items. He flushed and I realized I'd come on a bit strong.
That's what happens when you only talk to one person all day, and that one person is Susan.
"Did you?" He asked. His voice was about an octave higher than it would've been otherwise, and I gulped and scratched the back of my neck.
"Yeah! I did," I stammered. "Have. Good luck," I continued, veritably frisking myself for my wallet as he finished up totaling the groceries. "On inventory day. Yep."
I swear, in a past life I was a skilled orator. Just... Not this one.
"Yeah, great!" Leo said, grinning as he looked back up at me. He peered at the things I was buying as he shucked them into bags. "New year, new you?" He waved a bottle of scented cleaner at me.
"More than you'd think," I said, shaking my head with a morbid laugh.
"Well, have fun!" Leo said, waggling his eyebrows at me. "Here's your receipt!" He handed it over and I marched to the in-store bank to borrow a pen.
I drew him a picture of me, fighting the fearsome dust bunnies in my apartment with a broom. When I went to give it to him, I saw that he was with a customer and slipped out the door.
I stuck it in the windshield wiper and got into my car.
That might actually be for the best, honestly. I don't know if my heart would hold out if I had to watch him take it from me.
Until tomorrow, diary. Maybe I'll wash my sheets and curtains tomorrow...
--hawkwarrd
#12
Today was… a surprisingly good day. It’s Saturday, so I only had a half-day at work. On my walk there, I stopped by the dollar store and picked up a pack of space-themed sticky notes. If Leo and I are going to keep up our little back-and-forth with doodles (which I really, really hope we do, they’ve already kind of become the highlight of my work days), then I don’t need him to be able to glimpse into my sad shopping habits any more than he already has. Plus, this way I can stick them pretty much anywhere without having to worry about finding a way to secure it.
When I got to my locker, there was another sticky note doodle from Leo, this one of the both of us standing back to back, armed with various cleaning supplies and taking on an angry hoard of malicious dust bunnies together.
I’m glad no one was there to see the stupid grin that split my face.
I made sure to stick the doodle in my locker in a safe place before heading in to start my shift. The shift itself was nothing special, mostly restocking with the occasional stint at the register. Leo was in charge of making the soup pyramid to display this week’s soup specials. It inspired the sticky-note doodle I left on his locker before heading home: a cartoon version of him sitting on a throne of soup cans, framed by the phrase “Bow before me, for I am your SOUPerior!”
I hope he likes puns.
As I was walking home past the canal after my shift, I walked past a young woman singing along to the song that must have been pumping through her bright yellow headphones. I was only able to catch the lyrics of what I think was the chorus before she was behind me, continuing on her journey, but what I heard made me pause.
“Give us days to be filled with small rebellions
Senseless, brutal acts of kindness from us all”
And in that moment, for the first time in a long, long time, I felt inspired to write something. So, to avoid letting that little sliver of inspiration slip through my fingers like I have so many times before, I pulled out a pen and my sticky notes and started scribbling. It ended up being pretty short, but. I actually kind of like how the little poem turned out.
And it felt… good. To get words onto paper, again. Words that aren’t just my rambling thoughts or daily logs. I’m going to go ahead and copy what I wrote here so that I don’t have to worry about keeping track of the sticky notes. (Plus, my handwriting on them is barely legible considering I was standing out in the cold and the wind as I wrote it.)
with your brass knuckle kindness and
determination like a grin,
you won’t go down without a fight.
you instill hope like a roundhouse kick,
blindsiding everyone you meet
with a love that’ll bruise for weeks.
you plow through each and every day
like you’re on a mission,
a vengeful vigilante
who deals blows in the art of affection.
you’re scrappy — all feeling, no form,
with fists raised and ready
to deliver a punch of generosity so strong
it sends them reeling.
the force of it leaves your knuckles
cracked and bleeding,
this bloody benevolence all you have left to give to a world
that isn’t willing to fight
the way you want it to.
so you bring the battle to them,
beating them senseless with your brass knuckle kindness
and brutal blows of generosity,
each day wearing determination like a grin
I don’t want to hope, but… it feels like maybe, maybe, things might be starting to look up.
It’s time for me to go give Ember her dinner; I can hear her meowing at me in the kitchen. Already so insistent, and she hasn’t even been here a week yet. I already can’t imagine my life without her, though. When did I become such a freaking sap, ugh
Anyways, until tomorrow.
—jadengrace1
#13
Sun, Jan/13
Today’s page begins with a fingerprint of blood on the upper corner. It looked like paint at first (because I finally have that canvas looking like more than a random blob of spread oils) but a look at my finger made it start hurting and pinching it brought out a little red tear of blood in the middle of a cut that wasn’t there before, so. It is blood.
Sorry about that, dear diary.
As if tainting your pages with summaries of days that I almost missed on isn’t bad enough for you. I can’t even recall where I hurt myself, I hardly felt it. Perhaps Ember’s claw caught on my skin when we were playing? Maybe I sliced my own finger while cooking and only just noticed. Or maybe it was you and your thin pages. Paper cuts are a bitch. How dare you hurt me like this.
I guess this makes us siblings via a variation of that idiotic blood oath dumb kids do on recess when adults aren’t looking. To that I say, believe it or not, that you’ve been doing a better job at being a brother than my own brother our whole lives.
He called me this morning, you know? Well, now you do, my silent, inanimate sibling. He called me, but I didn’t pick up; I never do any more. It’s like I started caring more about myself since I cowarded away from suicide, only thirteen days ago. Wow, I really just wrote that, didn’t I. Fuck. For once, though, he didn’t leave it at an unattended call or two; he went to the trouble of texting me. In a short, eloquent sentence, he informed me that he, his dear wife and his loving child would be delighted with my company for dinner.
I laughed with bitterness at those words, flipped my phone down on the table and went back to the beginnings of a new painting.
As if I would fucking go back there.
I have nothing against Paula, the woman is too good for someone like my brother (she always smiles at me as if she knows what’s going on inside my head, and maybe she does because it’s her job to try and figure out minds far more complicated than mine, she is a criminal psychologist after all), and my nephew is… normal. Fairly normal, for a four year old who functions better with a smartphone and a laptop than I do. (Honestly though, I bet he can hack into a small digital system and make it his own, as easily as he rocks through a level of that noisy ding-ding-ding mobile game he’s always playing, without as much as a blink).
But again, it has nothing to do with Paula and nothing to do with little Ben. I can’t look at them and attach the word “family”, but I haven’t been able to do that since--
Anyway, it’s nothing to do with them.
You see, the good Reverend feels like I need his forgiveness. He thinks that I ran away from home because of some bad monster inside of me, he thinks I never got over dad and he thinks that I am what I am, that I like who I like because… I have hate inside me, and that I put this hate in here because I hold it against something he did, or something he said at some point.
I don’t honestly get it but I don’t want to understand him either. Not on his terms. And I feel like it’s a little too late for Reverend Nick to try and “fix” me.
I did just fine without him when I moved to this town. I did just fine without anyone.
My writing... has become a little disorderly for today.
- abyssiniana
#14
January Fourteenth
After yesterday, I chose to leave early for work and take a walk along the canal. I wanted to do some people watching, something calming before I had to stand at that register and deal with the unwashed masses.
I generally shy away from the fact that I, too, am unwashed.
I sat at the same spot that I had before for a little over a half an hour, making up stories for the other folk jetting around the town.
The text from my brother on my phone taunted me.
My otherwise empty message notifications did much of the same.
I weighed my options as I watched the people of the town.
I could ignore Nick, like I'd done so many times before, and try my best to jam all of that back into the messy suitcase I'd left unpacked in the back of my mind, full of all the other baggage from before. It felt like it was from another person, from another lifetime.
Only the call log and the text would have to know.
However, I would know. I would know that I was running away again, even though I'd already ran once.
Maybe running is what I do best. Maybe running is what got me into the mess that I'm in now.
I walked to the store, turning those thoughts over and over in my mind. Am I lonely? Would I feel less lonely if I'd talked to my brother, or would all of that just make it worse?
Past experiences pointed to the latter, but I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be able to talk to my family. To be able to go to dinners at their house and ask my nephew if he was excited for school and ask my sister-in-law how she'd made whatever recipe.
I stole into the breakroom like a wraith, barely noticing the world around me.
The thoughts hammered at the interior of my skull as sure as my heart hammered against the back of my sternum.
Am I lonely?
I got to my locker to stow away my jacket and gloves, only to notice a yellow sticky note.
Leo.
It was a cartoon of the two of us, sitting at a table with a cartoonishly large pizza between us.
"Lunch on Thursday?" It read. Leo signed it, like I needed the clarification as to who left the note for me.
I folded it and put it in the back of my phone case before taking out my own pad of sticky notes.
I drew myself holding a thumb up with a big grin.
"Sure!" I wrote on it.
I didn't make a decision as to whether or not to call my brother back, but I did decide one thing.
I'm not as lonely as I think.
--hawkwarrd
#15
January 15, 2019
I have no idea how I live like this.
I realized this morning on my way to work that I had forgotten to do laundry again, and it is so overwhelming I wanna scream. Two weeks ago I told myself I’d be better off, just, not existing, and there is no better reminder of the tedium of existing as laundromats.
So, at 4 in the afternoon, after an 8-hour shift, I changed into a hoodie and sweatpants, and placed my laundry basket on my bed, prepared for the inevitable task of cleaning. Ember, in her own way, helped. She laid spread out on one pile of dirty laundry, and then when I picked it up she’d move, miffed, and settle down in a different pile, until after the third time, she moved on to the couch and observed me instead.
Having someone to glare at you was a surprisingly good motivator.
I left her behind though, to lug my basket to my Corolla and drive to the laundromat. I honestly wasn’t sure what to bring to occupy myself, so I just brought you and my sketchbook, but I don’t have any doodling inspiration, unfortunately.
So here we are, in front of the dryers. This particular laundromat is pretty out of the way, and hard to get to if you don’t have a car, which is why I go. It’s less crowded. It’s also the only one somewhat nearby that didn’t have needles in the bathroom or creepy men that sat in the corner and stared at the women that came in. Why do I live in this city
I got Thai food from the place next door, (sorry I left a greasy thumbprint on this page), and put my headphones in, experiencing the unique indifference of a bunch of strangers in a shared space. Fried tofu and loud spin cycles and every human being in here at their most authentic self. Girls with no makeup on and hair up in buns, guys in t-shirts from the bottom of their closets, people on their phones in their native language and folding their underwear and melting under yellowing fluorescent lights.
The fact that I have to do this and be an adult for the rest of my life is mind-numbing. I hate that, but everyone here hates it too, so there's that I guess.
But, I have dinner. And clean clothes, and a somewhat cleaner room. And a pizza date on Thursday.
Fuck. What am I going to wear?
I don’t even know. I’ll figure it out. See you tomorrow, dear diary.
--Kearatheshadow
#16
Jan. 16
Forgive me for the language, dear diary, but no fucking way.
I had dumped the clean laundry yesterday in a haphazard heap on the coffee table to fold properly today (Hey, I already had the clothes washed, that's more than enough productivity within a twenty-four hour span), and when I woke up today, Ember had completely made a mess of the stack. Trashed. Ruined. Decimated.
Okay, okay, I kid. The little sweetheart didn't go that far, but she did pull out the furriest sweater from the middle of the stack and decided to adopt it as her bed, knocking over some clothing here and there.
But that's not what my shock is for. No, diary, I witnessed with my own two eyes, Ember's cluttering of my apparel revealed the lost treasures of time:
My Kawaii Sakura Vantasu-chan hoodie.
Like, damn, I could have sworn I lost this thing CENTURIES ago. Who would have known it was just buried under heaps of dirty clothing, crumpled paper, unthrown food wrappers and drop-out depression?
Ahem.
I put on the hoodie to try it out. It was tighter than the last time I wore it (ramen does not do the body any good) but still fit. Sakura's smiling face and vibrant purple hair contrasted with my room's dim lighting and the drab, peeling wallpaper I've been neglecting to replace. She's just as cute as I remember her.
I know, I know, I'm a big geek, but I owe a lot to KSV. I still remember when I was younger, running through our old house's door, just throwing my bag and shoes into any old corner and trying to beat Nick to the remote so I could watch what was probably the fifth rerun of the show that day.
The story followed your typical student-turned-magical-girl formula every mahou shoujo anime filled, but the special thing about Sakura was how mundane some of the magic was. How she always turned back the channel right as commercials ended, how she managed to get on the train just as it was about to leave, how she had just enough change to cover that day's lunch.
Otherwise, Sakura was every other dorky kid who never did her homework on time, who was insecure about what her friends thought of her, who found it hard to trust herself, that she could defeat the monster-of-the-day. Several of the show's problems were solved not by a wave of a wand or her familiar Pi's spells, but by Sakura's wit, perservarance and positive outlook: "Things may be bad, but they won't always be."
It was a magic so simple you could believe it was real.
KSV was the show that got me into art in the first place. One look at her white dress and big eyes and my elementary self thought, "I want to make something like that too!" My parents assumed it was just little kids doing little kid things, indulging me with crayons and cheap printer paper. I guess they never thought art would carry on my whole life, huh?
Who would have thought.
Ember yawned exaggeratedly loud as her tail pointed (?) right at the wall clock. Shit. I was late for work. (Guess I got magical familar of my own too?)
I hastily changed to my uniform and rushed to work. I didn't wear the hoodie to work because there's no way I'd want anyone to know I'm a loser who watches anime
Today wasn't a particularly busy day, and I spent the lull between customers reminiscing my favourite KSV episodes. The story, now that I look back at it, wasn't particularly stellar, but the animation quality I still recall was top-tier especially for the year it was made in. It was... inspiring. For the first time in months, I really felt like...
Drawing.
"Hey Susan," I called her over from my register as she was restocking cans of 'Apex Organic Sausages' (which were on sale? Again?) in the nearby aisle. "Your phone has one of those drawing apps, right?"
"Yeah, it's called Drawbot Pro, I think," she called back without looking, focusing her eyes on the tin's Nutritional Facts. Susan wasn't an idiot by any means, but she always fell for those insert-food-brand has been infected with insert-virus hoaxes, so she spent a good portion of the day reading over any new products we stocked.
"Can I borrow your phone?"
"Yeah, yeah sure. My bag's under my register."
I took her phone from her bag and typed in her password, which she hasn't changed since we started working here. I really can't believe she would trust somebody like me. Susan's a good friend and I'm glad she would trust me. Her phone wallpaper was a selfie of her and her boyfriend Darell smiling goofily into the camera. Having a boyfriend must be nice
I fiddled with the app's settings and clumsily made some strokes with my finger, pausing only when a customer came by. Her phone had a bulky bejewelled case and two keychains of sheep attached that made it a bit hard to hold on to, but the screen size was wide enough that I could more-or-less make out my drawing with ease.
I spent an unholy amount of time drawing the other eye (curse you, other eye) when I felt Greg tap my shoulder. "Shift's over, Luz. You can go home now."
I looked up and realized it was getting late, the store empty. Looks like Susan had already left and forgot about her phone. I saved my drawing and made my way to the parking lot where I saw Leo about to get into his car. When he saw me, without warning he struck a ridiculous flamingo-like pose, and I just stood there wondering which alternate universe I stumbled into.
"Things may be bad," he began, and a flash of recognition, overtook me. He swung his arms Sakura-style and in unison, we bellowed, "but they don't always have to be."
We both paused for a moment and then laughed out loud (Glad there weren't any more customers left). "Dude, I can't believe you know that show!" I almost shouted, surprised by how loud my own voice could be. When was the last time I sounded that excited?
"Know it? I love that show! I was pretty much spazzing when I saw you drawing Sakura back there! I was gonna ask you 'bout it but you seemed pretty immersed with drawing so I didn't want to bother you. Great art, though."
I stood there grinning like an idiot. Usually, I'd be embarassed to be seen drawing in public, but hearing Leo appreciate not only my taste in anime but my art too felt... nice.
We exchanged a few more words about the show before going our separate ways. "We still on for pizza tomorrow, right?" he asked, and I responded with the signature snappy double-thumbs up Sakura did at the end of every episode.
Let's just say I spent a good amount of the drive feeling giddy to the point I was bopping around the radio music without fear of someone outside seeing me. It feels good, just doing this. Drawing, dancing, talking to friends.
Just... living.
I fed Ember dinner as soon as I came home (And she looked at my peculiar excitement with the suspicious expressions only cats hold) and placed the Sakura hoodie I hastily threw onto my bed on a proper hanger. Well, at least I know what to wear tomorrow.
I spent the evening staring at my finished art. It wasn't perfect, sure: the colouring was all over the place and the anatomy was rusty, brought about by lack of practice, but... I drew something. I made something with my own hands. Something good, something people can and do like.
And that's more than enough.
P.S I messaged Susan online about her phone and she just replied "OH LOL i forgot i gave that 2 u holy shit my dumb ass rly out here thinking i lost it sorry was in a rush promised darell i'd teach him how to make asserole 2night. *casserole not asserole wtf. just give it to me tomm tnx :)"
- Cordaello
#17
January 17th.
I woke up in a jolt today. I had a dream - a nightmare, you can say. But I don't remember it now. I only remember it made me gasp for air and shake like a leaf. I remember I stared at the ceiling when I tried to calm down, and jumped when I felt something on my leg. But then I felt three little paws trailing from my leg to my stomach, and when I heard a purr getting closer, I finally managed to relax. Ember nuzzled her face against mine and sat on my neck, and eventually just decided to sleep with her chin on my nose. We spent twenty more minutes like this, before I had to get up.
Thank God I adopted that little angelic devil.
I didn't really feel like wearing something impressive today, but then I remembered - I meet up with Leo today for lunch. I can't not be impressive. The very thought of it made me look through my tiny closet for more than ten minutes, put on and take off at least three different outfits. Eventually I went for something simple, but just a tiny bit more elegant than my usual shirt of choice, and on top of it put my uniform. It'll be embarrassing to take extras in the bag and change there (I thought about taking my KSV hoodie but it was too much).
I'm writing my last words this morning to you with my coat on, the bag on my shoulder and this stupid giddiness in my chest.
To be continued.
︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵
It's close to 11pm now. The light from my lamp is warming up my hands, and I can't help but smile.
I'll start from the beginning.
When I got to the grocery store, I found a note in my locker with a small doodle of a pizza inside a circle of sparkles and “thumbs up” signs, and the hour 12:00 written right underneath it.
I was pretty surprised - Thursday is Leo's day off usually. And that note wasn't there yesterday so he must have come here today before I did. Despite my confusion, I laughed to myself and put it with the rest of his notes I secretly keep in there, I wrote a little sticky note back and put it in Leo's locker.
I stepped into the store only to see Leo was there, standing with a cup of tea in his hand. When I asked him why he was here, he said he asked to come today anyways so he could go to lunch along with me instead of meeting me there. I told him he didn't have to, and he said, “I know, but I wanted to.”
I couldn't really argue with that. In fact, he said it in such a way I didn't want to argue at all.
Work went pretty much as usual. It was my turn to stand behind the cash box, while Greg was far in the back of the store, organizing the dairy section, and Leo was pretty close to me in the fruits and vegetables section. It was only when I jolted that I realized I was staring into nothing - but in his direction. I blinked and looked around that no one saw me embarrassing myself, and decided to occupy myself with counting the money we have in the box.
But he did approach me a few times. I told him that the pizza he drew looks tasty, and he laughed with that little shy head-tilt of his.
Somehow my eyes always kept on turning him during my shift, every time I heard an occasional fruit falling down or even for no reason at all. I caught him managing to catch some of the falling fruits in mid-air and he was so excited about that every single time it happened. He was mostly with his back to me so he didn't notice I saw him - which is good, ‘cause I felt like a big idiot smiling whenever he did.
The later the hour was, the more customers came in, to the point when I thought to myself, ’why are there so many people in here before lunchtime on a Wednesday? Is there a secret holiday I don't know about?’
Luckily, right before 12:00, Susan tapped on my shoulder and told me I could go and have my break. She even brought her sister’s kids with her to help around. I thanked her more times than I should have, and hurried to go back to the locker room.
Leo found my note and turned to me right when I arrived. “Oh my God,” he told me, “do you have superpowers or something? Your note says ‘look to the right’ and the very moment I looked, you showed up!”
Sadly, I don't have superpowers, but the fact that I impressed him made me more proud than I'm willing to admit.
I took off my uniform’s shirt and stayed with the dark-red one I had underneath. Apparently I wasn't the only idiot out of the two of us that thought about doing this - he changed too, to a galaxy-themed black shirt (you have no idea how good he that looks). We both put our jackets on and brought our wallets and phones, and headed out to the cold. It was grey outside, and looked like it was gonna rain every moment, but it didn't.
We walked and talked about silly things until we reached the pizza place (I never felt so comfortable around someone else before. Not even with my own previous friends). When we got in, he got quiet again, and I ordered us a family-sized pizza. I asked him if he was cool with onions and mushrooms, and he nodded in his usual timid way. While we waited for our pizza to get ready, I pulled him to one of the back tables just beside the window, and distracted him with small games, doodling and random questions.
Even after we ate, he somehow didn't get tired of me (the pizza was great by the way. It was our first time there, and hopefully it won't be the last). We sat there and took our time, got to know each other a bit better. I told him about my studies and why I left, told him about my brother but not much (he was cool with that), but I talked about Ember like she was my soulmate. He told me about the dog he used to have in Michigan, about his parents and his two sisters, and how he left and why. His dad was always tough on him, and his mom was basically doing whatever he told her. Leo’s sisters are older than him, and they left home at 18 just like he did. But they always helped, he said. His oldest sister took him in for a while when stuff with his dad went down badly, and the other found him his current apartment and sent him away. They couldn't go with him ‘cause they have their own families, but they promised to visit. I told him I hope they will.
At some point he apologized for talking so much, but to be honest, I could sit and listen to him for hours on end.
I got a message from Susan that we could stay out a bit longer, so after we finished our pizza, we strolled outside. Leo saw a sign about a local festival that I didn't even notice (well at least now I know why there were so many customers earlier - there is, in fact, a secret holiday I didn't know about). We decided it'd be nice to go and see what they have, and made our way down the local park.
It was peaceful, at first. The air was fresh and the trees were big and protected us from the winds.
And then, I saw a lightning in the sky. Right after it, a huge thunder literally exploded in the clouds and Leo jumped so high I thought he'd hit a tree. I was concerned at first, but then I saw him laughing and saying, “oh god that spooked the hell out of me!” It was cute, that he laughed at his own fright. I couldn't help but laugh myself - his face was pretty funny.
Heavy rain began falling down and we decided to give up on the festival and try to take cover (the trees didn't help anymore). We held our coats up above our heads and ran back to beginning of the park, where the kids’ playground was. We found shelter underneath the slide and just waited for the rain to end, while we held each other's arms to somehow stay warm.
His hands were warm actually, somehow. Well, warmer than mine. Not as much my lamp’s light is at this moment, but still - it reminded me of him.
When the rain finally calmed and stopped, we made our way back to work, and went to the locker room to dry up.
“I had a really good time,” he told me. As always, he was smiling so shyly, I could feel my heart swell. “Sorry I'm always awkward in public places. But I did really enjoy our lunch. We should do it again.”
I agreed instantly.
We got back to work, and the rest of the day went pretty fast. I thought about our lunch break all day, so maybe that's why. Susan and her kids still helped around and sadly I didn't see Leo again until I had to go. But before I went back home, I scribbled one last doodle for him: a pizza decorated with “until next time” on top.
I can't believe my days are getting better. Sometimes it's hard to believe that any of this is real. Sometimes I'm still puzzled - has it really been seventeen days? Can my life really change like that, for the better?
But I also - I dunno. I don't want to ruin anything, or get my hopes up too much. I've never kept in touch with any of my ex-friends. I've never… let myself connect with anyone like that. I have no excuse, really, I'm just a shit friend, but maybe… maybe this time is different.
Leo makes it seem different. And honestly, I really want that. I… God, I feel stupid. Even writing it is hard for me.
Fuck. Never mind. Bottom line is, I had a good day today, Leo was great…
… and now Ember is meowing at me and playfully biting my leg. I'll give her some food now, before she claims my foot as her new treat.
Maybe I'll let him meet her one day.
- hadar
#18
18th Jan 2019
I woke up a little too early today. Just now in fact.
I had a dream I want to forget, but it wasn't like most nightmares I've been having in a sort of irregular frequency. This one was the first. I don’t know what that means but I'm sure of it; it felt like a beginning, though it came from long ago.
My handwriting shakes, but for the silent, uncomplaining witness you are, it must do.
I'm trying to think of a logical way to put the dream but I can't seem to find the common thread that knits what I see and hear and think I feel into a particular plot. I think it's just a mess and the more I think about it the more I seem to add to it, with what I believe it was rather than what it truly was. Before I taint my dream with any further attempt to make it understandable, here goes:
I saw people. Do I know them, do I not, I just don't know. All I know is that their faces are painful to look at, they're all around me and it's suffocating. An arm reaches out for me, open palm, comforting touch until it starts twisting and burning but it pulls me out and I'm back home. Not this shitty apartment, it's my home the home I ran away from because they had nothing but shackles for me. I see a swing in the tree, a trail of rocks that lead to the porch, a hand in mine. Leo...? No, why are you here?! Get out get out get out, you don’t belong here-- you don't get it, he's gonna-- dad…? I'm so sorry... Dad please. I'm here, I'm home, please breathe--
...
I have zero memory of filling the page until this point. Ramblings at three in the morning do that. I'm sorry I filled you up with nonsensical garbage.
... Here's some more useless things.
Susan skipped her "good afternoon" in favor of asking for details about yesterday's pizza date. That last word weighs in my tongue, or rather, my pen; a date? Wow. That’s what it was, wasn’t it?
I didn't tell her much. Not because my fluttering heart didn't have anything to say, but because I have a tendency to keep things to myself. Special things.
"Soooooo?"
"So what?" I replied, trying to focus on stacking the sardine cans in a somehow stable tower in the middle of the canned goods aisle, for the 25% promotion the store would hold for the weekend.
"SoOOOoooOo~?" She insisted in a comical sing song cadence, gesturing with her head towards Leo (who was on checkout duty, sneezing into the curve of his elbow before helping an old lady tuck away her groceries into her bag). Thank you so much, I read his lips, a kind smile towards the customer, Come again!
Had he gotten a cold because of yesterday? A slim fit denim jacket with a fluffy neckline looked amazing on him but it wasn't exactly a fitting attire for rain.
I didn't give her any details, though. "It was nice. Pizza was great. We had fun."
She giggled with an excitement I shared but didn't show.
I waved at Leo when his shift ended at five and he came over even though he didn't have to. He said he was tired, but looking forward to the weekend. Said he was going to look around town, and made it suggestive enough to sound like an invitation. I thought I had imagined that, but when I stayed quiet he pressed further, "I mean-- if you want to. You've been here longer than me, and all I know is my way between my apartment, work, and the canal."
If he really wanted to learn his way around he could have asked Greg or Sylvia; they were locals and very vocal about their origins. I ended up saying I was free on Sunday, even though I'm free for the whole weekend. He smiled and said, "Good."
"Good." I said back. He chuckled adorably before excusing himself to wipe his freckled, reddened nose.
"I'll be all healed up by Sunday, don't worry." He promised with a snotty voice, and I believed him. I pointed him towards the closest pharmacy and he said I was already the best guide ever before walking through the automatic slide doors of the grocery shop and sprinting to his car, avoiding the rain as best as he could without an umbrella.
I only noticed I was smiling like an idiot, staring through the window as Leo drove away, when Greg playfully locked me under his muscled arm and messed my hair with his large hand. “Your shift isn’t over yet, you seducer. Go help that kind customer, wouldja? She’s looking for textured soy protein down in the bio aisle.”
I untangled myself from that mutant gorilla’s tattooed arms and went to help the lady. After that the day went by pretty fast, Greg let me out early, and here I am.
…
For the first time in a few days my mind drifts back to the rope I kept away. The rope that was supposed to be the last piece of jewelry I'd ever wear around my neck.
As my phone rings with an incoming call from a number I wish I didn't know to see, I end this entry with the thought that I have never been so close of using the rope to choke someone else.
I picked up. I shouldn't have, I knew it.
- abyssiniana
#19
Saturday, Jan. 19th. 23:25 (11:25)
Today’s entry will be short. I don’t feel like writing much.
Sean called last night. I haven’t talked to him in a while – thank God for that – and I haven’t mentioned him because honestly, Sean can just… leave. Die.
Be miserably alone for the rest of his days, locked in a prison cell for all the things he’s done.
Sean destroyed me.
Sean was a reason for leaving.
We met in High School when I was 15. All charm, of course, as they all are. He approached me, asked me to a party I wasn’t going to go to (except after that I was, apparently), and I accepted. I accepted a lot of things from him that I won’t go into. Not on paper, where I can be reminded of him every time I flip through the pages. We broke up when I turned 17 and I told myself I was going to be okay (and now look at me – 19, almost dead: what a New Year’s toast, am I right?). And then Sean, who had the audacity to call me and demand-
Whatever. It doesn’t matter why he called. I’m rid of him. I’ve got Leo now, Susan, Ember, Greg… (who, to be honest, looks intimidating because he’s pretty tall and muscular, but is in fact just a marshmallow with fake cactus needles – I imagine when you’re like that nothing’s really a threat).
Doesn’t mean things are perfect, but hey. I can try.
Maybe.
Or maybe that’s just what I’m telling myself.
- sher
#20
20th Jan 2019
I am determined to make this a good day, especially with that reminder of Sean two days ago. I’m moving on. Thank you, next.
About sometime yesterday, I realised that Leo and I hadn’t set a place or time to meet for today. I did a lot of frantic stalking on Facebook, searching for his profile, and miraculously, I found it, and we set a place and time to meet. I found his Instagram and Twitter too. His Instagram was filled with nice landscape photography. Maybe he likes photography? I’ll ask him later.
I’ve been wrecking my mind, thinking of places to bring Leo today. I don’t want to disappoint him. In fact, I’m sitting in a cafe, near our workplace, stupidly early, waiting for him to arrive. Hopefully, I don’t spill coffee over you again, dear diary.
I’m terribly stressed about this. I spent a long time crafting an itinerary, so hopefully, I don’t mess this up for both of us.
I see him walking towards the cafe. He looks fairly nervous, his head bent down slightly and earphones in his ears.
See you later. I’d rather not let Leo see me writing in you, if you don’t mind. It’s so weird that I feel like I owe you, beloved inanimate diary, an explanation.
-------------
Hi. I’m back.
Things…. didn’t really go according to plan. But not in a bad way.
I was planning to show Leo some of the more touristy places, if even you can even call it that, as well as more practical places. The store to get cheap clothes, areas to get cheap but good food, the mall, the movie cinema, you get what I mean. This isn’t a big city, but it isn’t exactly small either.
Leo, walking by side, was always nodding and smiling quietly, listening attentively to whatever I had to say. And we talked… like a lot. I found myself smiling a lot, laughing hysterically along with Leo. We covered a good amount of places, and I’m pleased with myself.
I never felt like I had any right to pry, I’ve been avoiding bringing up the topic, but I was curious. So I asked Leo, “Why here? Why choose to move here?”
His shoulders sunk and he sighed softly. “I just wanted a change of picture. Get away from my parents.” He scoffed when he said that. “I used to have big dreams of moving to a big city, like New York, London, Paris. My bedroom used to be covered with posters of city skylines. Now I’m here.” He didn’t continue but didn’t look like he regretted coming here either.
I brought him to the ice skating rink, although I’ve never been. I thought maybe he wouldn’t be that interested in it, but his eyes sparked up with joy when we neared the building. He grinned at me and with the most excited expression I’ve ever seen on him, he asked if we could ice skate. I agreed, I couldn’t say no to him.
As soon as Leo put the shoes on (complaining about how clunky and bulky rental skates were), he glided across the ice, leaving me grasping to the side railings, because I’ve never skated a day in my life. My abs were getting a good damn workout (and my legs are currently screaming in pain right now), because keeping myself upright was the most exercise I’ve gotten in ages.
I fell on my face (ouch), and it was brought (very painfully) to Leo’s attention that I could not skate. So, instead of renting one of those kiddy penguin things that kids used to learn how to skate, Leo insisted on teaching me. He placed my hands in his, (his hands were so warm and comforting) and as he skated backwards, he instructed me on how to skate. Soon after, I could do it, even if I was a bit shaky and I fell a couple more times. Leo looked proud of me after seeing me skate a round, by myself, without using the handrails. I think it was worth it, just to see the look on Leo’s face.
He showed me a couple of skating tricks he learned, and I was very impressed, clapping for him and cheering. I didn’t expect him to know so much.
By the time we got out, it was getting dark. I had more on my itinerary but I decided to pass it up. Hopefully, he’ll ask for another time? Maybe I’m hoping too much. I really hope he does. Leo asked if I wanted to go for dinner and I eagerly replied, starving after the whole day out. He paid for dinner, insisting that it was payment for taking him out to show him around.
Before he left, Leo passed me a sticky note, and chuckled as he said, “I haven’t given you my number. Maybe we could do this again.” And I replied, “I hope we do.” When I looked at it, I noticed he drew a little heart next to his number, and I’m dying inside just thinking about what it could mean. I’m a little worried that with his number, our sticky note exchanges at work will come to a stop, but hopefully, it won’t.
Ember is curled up next to me, purring, as I’m writing this. For fun, I texted Leo a picture of Ember, and got in response, a string of heart emojis. Suffice to say, I think it’s a pretty good day. I can’t help but think it wouldn’t have been if I had ended it at the start of this month. Maybe this year will turn out good after all.
There’s something rather archaic about writing in the first page of a journal while being bathed in nothing but the light of a candle. Normally I wouldn’t mind it much, it does set a mood, but as the lone flame flickers, so does my soul, out of the impaling feeling of pure, raw, suffocating boredom.
Archaic as it might be, Benjamin Franklin’s been dead for quite some time now and the current world revolves around the connection he found between lightning and tiny electric sparks, an energy that has been temporarily taken from us.
With the storm raging outside, there’s been a general blackout in this part of town. No internet, no television, no working electronic devices, just me and the apartment I’ve been neglecting to clean for way too long. I didn’t clean anything at all, mind you, I was just moving and kicking things around to ease my access to the ceiling fan with the chair I dragged behind me and the rope that I still have around my neck.
From a higher angle, my feet on the seat of the chair, a blur through the futile tears I blinked away; that’s how I spotted you, partially hidden under layers of discarded smelly clothing, inside a plastic storage box with the last remnants of proof that I’ve actually been to college at some point in this life of mine. A shame I didn’t graduate, but also not really? Art school can set you free as much as it can castrate your spirit.
But there you were, all faux leather cover, a gift cast aside at the time, but full of stories yet untold. Unwritten, rather. Am I talking to you or are you talking to me? Am I writing with the hopes of it being read, or so that I can figure out what I’m trying to tell myself?
I only noticed the passage of the year because the neighbors from downstairs helpfully screamed the countdown with an excitement I only wished I could share. I laid my shaky hands on you with seven seconds to go and made the decision to start writing at the exact moment they yelled “zero”.
Am I just lonely, diary? Simply sad? New Year is supposed to be about new beginnings, but in the darkness of a world that moves onto 2019 without light, your pages called for an entry. For what it’s worth…
You stopped me from ending right at the beginning.
I end this entry with the desk lamp flickering awake.
- @abyssiniana
#2
Hello Day 2.
Yesterday I didn’t think we’d meet, and now it seems so ordinary.
Went back to work today. Another thing I thought I was leaving behind. I was on shift with Susan again, and it seems like the holidays put her in a better mood. She had a lot to tell me about her boyfriend.
We had pretty heavy traffic. More than we expected. Some old man got kicked out for saying some seriously racist shit. Bless my manager. And fuck the elderly, I guess?
It was bright and cold on my way in. I walked along the canal. I watched someone try and fish their hat out with a stick for like 10 minutes (they did it!)
On the way home I got caught in the rain and got soaked.
Closing thoughts? This was sort of a shitty day, but hey, I’m still here. I changed into some dry clothes, I’ve got some music on and I’m snuggled up in a blanket.
I kept the rope. It’s in my desk drawer. Is that morbid? I think it’s to avoid denial. I’m also keeping the candles. The power’s on, but the candles are nice anyway.
See you soon, day 3.
- @mykumatt
#3
Day three. I wish I could say I was happy to see you.
I was off of work today. Most people hang out with friends, run errands, see a show, something else on their days off.
I usually sit and home and stare at blank canvasses and wonder what happened to me. I used to be good. I used to be something.
Am I really anything, anymore?
I eat. I sleep. I work.
Am I anything more than an automaton? Am I worth more than the money accrued with every beep of a barcode on a register?
Today, I couldn't sit inside and wonder if I'd ever become anything. Today, I went to ask the canal.
Cold and grey, it didn't have much to offer me that I didn't already know. I sat on a low wall beside the canal, almost a block from work.
The canal had my attention for all of moments. The surface was glassy, dark. Nothing swam within, nor did anything float on the surface.
I watched people instead.
One woman needed to get to the bank before it closed, I decided. She walked with purpose, long strides taking her quickly from my sight. A young man peered into the windows of a record store with his headphones on as he swayed to the beat. He was still home from college, looking for a last-minute gift for a roommate or a friend. An elderly couple toddled into a diner, the man holding his arm out for the woman, even though they both carried a cane. They've been married fifty years, kids long moved away. They eat breakfast together every morning.
Making up the story of someone else's life made mine seem more interesting.
Sometimes, I wonder what people think when they see me on the streets. Am I still a student, in their eyes? Do I live with my parents? Do I have a family of my own? What if I'm a business owner, a chef, a politician, a poet?
Do they know that I'm nothing at all?
When I looked back across the canal, I saw a man in nearly my mirrored position. He wore a black leather jacket and no hat or gloves. In one hand, he held a cigarette. In the other, a small, black book, much like you, dear diary.
He is a musician, I decided. His hands were lithe and his fingers slim, perfect for the piano or the guitar. In that notebook, he carried symphonies. He carried the next greatest rock album. He carried next week's one hit wonder.
Who knows?
Maybe he isn't anything. Just like me.
- hawkwarrd
#4
Day Four. Damn.
I didn’t really realize how boring my life has become until I started to do this. What do I even say? It wasn’t a bad day? I went to work, it was Friday, so it was busier than usual, but nothing truly awful.
Oh, and Susan told me today that the new person was hired yesterday while I was off. They start tomorrow, so that’s something exciting? Hopefully, we don’t get another Sean.
My Friday night was closing, and take out food at home. No plans with friends. No notifications on my phone. A single online order for falafel, and a cold dark walk back down the canal passing the glittering lights of restaurants and bars full of laughter and friends and dates.
I would feel ashamed to reach out to anyone at this point. I was the one that pushed them away, what right did I have to see my friends again, and pretend nothing is wrong? They didn’t do anything wrong, I ignored texts, I couldn’t go out places, I never reached out. The thing that was wrong was me.
Maybe I should get a cat.
Candles and canvases and white pages don’t talk back.
Neither do cats, but maybe I could actually feel like someone useful again. It’s a new year and just because the year feels impossibly long and lonely and scary—
Fuck. Fuck I hate that. While I want to get better, am I really committed enough to 2019? To taking care of something that long? I don’t even have a real plant in my apartment.
...Maybe a senior cat.
- @kearatheshadow
#5
Day 5.
I can't believe I actually managed to write here for five days in a row. Maybe I need to take it all out in writing, or maybe I just hope you'll be found one day, long after I'm gone, and that someone better than me will find you somehow interesting. I know I don't. I'm your writer after all, right?
I worked half day today. I didn't think I'd go to work, but I guess I needed an excuse to get up early. Last night I had some thoughts, some regrets. I thought about what I tried to do, and how I could feel that rope screaming at me from the drawer. Calling me a coward. Telling me that if I can't use it, I should at least do something with myself. Anything.
So I had to get out, you know? I couldn't hear it anymore.
Before work, I went to sit by the canal again with some coffee. I kinda like it.
It wasn't that bad today. Not too many customers. Most of the workers weren't in, so I had some peace and quiet. As much as most of them are pretty okay, I hate all of those rumors and gossips that always spread around. You can't say anything without everyone knowing about it 5 minutes later (especially Susan. She's nice but she's the most talkative person I've ever met. It's exhausting sometimes). That's why I don't talk much. Though to be fair, I don't talk much in general.
The new guy was in today. He looked like he was nervous and shy, and mainly kept himself close to Greg, who was shift manager today. The poor guy had to hide his shaking hands behind him when he handled customers. Must be his first job, at least in this kind of job. But after some time, Greg told me to spend some time with him.
His name is Leo. And he's the most gentle person I've ever met. We didn't talk much, but I saw it right away. He saw me scribble on a random piece of paper and he really liked it. So I gave it to him, and he put it in his wallet.
I dunno why, but after I went back home, I wasn't so tired like I always am.
I didn't touch my sketchbook since dropping out of school. It's dusty, but somehow well kept.
Maybe I'll draw something later.
- @somegoodsheith
#6
I decided today would be a mental health day. Called Sylvia and the sweet old lady took my shift from me. I knew no matter what she would and take it because she’s so giving with everyone in the store. I feel like I manipulated her into taking it but goes to show I’m an awful person. Not like we didn’t know that already. Okay shit. We’re not doing this today. I’m treating myself well today, only good thoughts for now.
I took the bus into the city. I figured it was best not to lie in bed all day. I got onto the subway and yeah I sat there for a long time. Like a really long time. I tried to sketch a couple of people with the notepad I brought with me, but my mind was wandering too much so I threw it back into my bag. I rode the entire line to the original stop I started at.
I enjoyed it though. That feeling of just being. A city goer. Maybe someone who works nine to five. Someone who just. Lives their life without their minds chained to an abyss that’s barely trying to break free. They maybe worry about things like, paying bills on time and making it to their kids recital.
Just a regular cyclical life that doesn’t revolve around whether their brains decide to work or not.
I made it to an animal shelter and then got dinner and then went home. Kinda uneventful. I’m still thinking about a cat maybe. I don’t know. None of them particularly attracted me. Well I mean I did try and play with every single one of them. Just none that I felt I should take home. Because I don’t know maybe I don’t deserve it.
I was surprised they had birds and turtles and fish there. Not as common as cat, dogs and rodents. But I don’t know my eyes were caught by this turquoise conure. She was very calm and interested in me and her eyes just had life as soon as walked in the room.
Birds are so beautiful and I love them so much. Just hard to keep. I would have to quit my job to even have time for a parrot. And I already spend so much time at home. I just couldn’t. I’m gonna keep looking around for cats though. I have the time and space and money.
I just. Need to stay alive somehow. Maybe a cat could do that. Just gotta find the one y’know
I think I might look at volunteering at the shelter some day. I don’t think that parrot is going anywhere anytime soon and I’d love to play with her and that way it would be easier for me to find a cat. Who knows.
- @technicolorfire
#7
Day 7
I’m feeling a bit better today. That mental health day truly helped out a lot! I’m thinking about treating Sylvia for lunch or something. I got to thank her somehow, but I’m still not 100% sure what to do. If I don’t do something, I’m going to feel the guilt anytime I look at her. Oh boy.
At work today, Leo came up to me, nervously twiddling his thumbs. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper and pushed it into my hands before walking away. I opened it up and it was a drawing of me. Everything, from the hair to my eyes, was perfect. On the bottom it read, “You know, I used to draw back during my high school days. Your drawing really motivated me to try up that hobby again. I hope you and me can be friends. You might even be able to teach me something.”
I don’t know what to say. I know dozens of people whose drawings are better than mine, so why is Leo paying any attention to mine? Whatever, I’ll take it. I’ll probably talk to him tomorrow, if he’s willing that is.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I did get a cat. A pure black female American Shorthair. I named her Ember, due to her fiery eyes. She’s a quiet one, mostly keeping to herself. Right now, she’s laying down on my bed, softly purring. I need to go to the pet store and buy her something before she rips the entire house apart. At least Ember lightens up the atmosphere.
On my way out of the shelter, I grabbed a volunteer forum from one of the employees. In fact, it’s sitting next to Ember right now. At least now I can hope to make someone’s day better. New year, new me after all.
Well, until we meet again, diary.
-Tingle
#8
Do cats wear collars?
I ended up going to the mall before my shift to buy pet supplies and the thought entered my mind when I saw the aisle of shiny, multi-coloured pet collars in the store. The images of cats on the labels, ecstatic to receive the gift of Collar from Human, repeated across an entire wall of ApexCorp® Anti-Tick and Flea Cat Collars™ Dermatologist Approved.
Do cats have dermatologists.
I have never seen a cat wear a collar in my life. Not even on TV. Or maybe I have seen one before, on a cat food commercial? Who pays attention to those things anyway?
Do cats wear collars? The question, it haunts me.
I did not buy Ember a collar.
I stuffed the pet supplies onto my car's backseat (a secondhand Toyota Corolla my parents bought me for my 18th birthday - old but still trusty) — a litter box, two food bowls, a large pack of cat food to last at least a month or so, and a squeaky mouse toy. Not a collar in sight.
I returned to the mall, deciding to grab a bite to eat before I went to work in a few hours. My shift today was supposed to be from 8 AM to 4 PM, but Sylvia (1-9 PM) asked us to switch since she had some errands later in the evening. Sure, fair enough. She did take my shift the other day, might as well return the favour. Not like I have much better to do in the evening.
I already spent most of my spare money on Ember's things, but a sandwich and maybe a milk tea won't hurt my wallet too bad. And it'll probably taste better than all the cup noodles and rice-plus-canned-something that had comprised my diet for the past several months. I deserve to treat myself every once in a while.
Right?
I strolled across the mall; when was the last time I actually went here? I didn't recognize most of the stalls anymore, and had forgotten where I used to eat all the time.
No point in thinking too deeply about it, I suppose. Thinking doesn't do me much good.
I stopped by a café that only had three other customers and ordered a "House's Special" panini and, at the cashier's suggestion, an "Okinawa milk tea with tapioca, rock salt and cheese."
I have no idea what either of these are.
From across the café where I sat was International Bookstore. Oh, International Bookstore, with your overpriced erasers and purple pens that never seem to be in stock. The glass display presented a vast array of hardcover novels, alcohol markers and oil pastels, a medium I was never good at.
I stared at the art supplies, sipping my tea plaintively. I haven't made a serious artwork ever since I left school, my once diverse portfolio reduced to crude doodles at the back of receipts.
My impressive receipt collection was set to grow yet again as I scribbled behind the café bill with the half-empty pen I write grocery lists with.
I started with some abstract scribbles, trying to get a feel for the pen. The once black ink was nothing more than a faded gray now. I sketched out my lunch absent-mindedly, taking more time looking at the bread's dotted texture than my own work (Ah, food, the art student's favourite subject).
I continued eating (GOD this is good milk tea, thanks cashier person), stopping every few bites to draw again, the progression of my food as it was being consumed laid out on the paper until all that was left to draw were bread crumbs and an empty cup.
This could be symbolic for something, but I'm not really sure.
- cordaello
#9
I can’t believe it took me a full day to understand Leo’s joke when I asked him if he was planning to grow a beard. “Maybe. Who knows? I used to not like facial hair but it grew on me.” I just… thought he didn’t have a razor.
By the way, I forgot to write about my conversation with Leo yesterday (the first thing I thought of doing was sticking that receipt doodle on my diary and my mind threw any other detail that happened that day out of the window).
I’ll just quickly skim over what happened yesterday. He’s a quiet, shy guy who avoids talking to people if it’s unnecessary. He’d rather watch and observe. Didn’t get to chat with him until our break time since I didn’t really want to disturb him while we were working. Sheepishly, I started small talk between the two of us which somehow sidetracked into a long discussion about BBC’s hit detective rom-com show, Sureluck played by the loveable Bandersnatch Cucumber.
There was something about the uncovering mysteries that fascinated both of us. Maybe it was the idea that there’s something more to the things that happen around us, a hidden explanation. That or it was just wishful thinking; we wanted to belong to a scheme bigger than all of us, to be worth more than what we think we are.
Or maybe it’s Bandersnatch’s sexy cheekbones. Maybe…
Honestly, Leo’s such a precious kid. He’s still pretty young, just turned 18 and recently moved from Michigan to this place where nothing extraordinary happens (unless you count the disc of lights that disappear after a few seconds above Dale University). He rents a small apartment a few blocks from the store.
I thought it’d be nice to show him around; after all, he’s new here. So after today’s shift I asked if he wanted to go to Ravensons Mall and grab something to eat, maybe sit on one of the benches at the nearby park for cats.
Do cats have parks.
“Um, sure, I’d love to go,” he answered with a small smile. “It’s not like there are people waiting for me to get home.”
Beneath that smile I could hear a tinge of melancholy in his voice and I felt a little bad for him. This kid was me a couple of years ago. This kid is me now, scared and reluctant in this jungle of people bustling around minding their own businesses, and I alone.
Alone.
Maybe Leo didn’t have to feel the same way. Maybe I could be a friend to him. Maybe…
After the shift we got into my car and drove to Ravensons. WcDonalds was packed with people and Leo seemed agitated at the overwhelming business of the fast food chain so I ordered us each a burger and a cup of soda to go, and left the busy place.
Leo seemed to calm down when we got to the park. We watched as people walk by. We watched families that had small picnics on the grass under the shade of the big trees — the only trees you’d see in this place.
There were no signs of cats whatsoever.
Leo told me about Michigan and how he and his friends would have long road trips in and out of the state in his friend Brad’s pickup truck. There was something peaceful about driving across miles and miles of land, especially at night, and being alone in the middle of nowhere.
Maybe we should go out on a road trip someday.
-realcakkuu
#10
Ember woke me up a little before my alarm went off. I suspect I will eventually transcend the need of setting up the alarm at all; for a cat without one of her front paws, she sure pounces hella hard on my stomach at six twenty in the morning exactly. I can’t decide if I prefer waking up to her demand of food or Gary Moore’s guitar solo.
The cat decided for me.
I fed her. She likes the extravagant salmon food I can barely afford, because of course she does; for an animal who was rescued from the streets, she sure was picky with her Purina Fancy Feast. After the bowl was empty she staggered towards me to rub herself on my leg in what I can guess is appreciation.
I very damn well hope it is appreciation.
Do cats have that sort of feelings towards inferior beings such as humans?
I petted her, though. Cute.
I made a good pot of coffee for myself, but then opened my fridge to realize I hadn’t bought milk in weeks. I burned my toast but ate it anyway; anything goes down my mouth with enough peanut butter. I may or may not have forgotten to pay the water bill, but I’m fairly certain I did (one day past the limit, is a fact). I think they just cut the hot water because they’re complete sadistic unforgiving assholes. I showered anyway. I masturbated. I couldn’t even tell how long it had been since I last did it but I can’t say it felt... particularly good. Mostly made me feel fourteen again, self-discovering without the concern of being caught by my brother in the upper bunk bed.
I uh. Shouldn’t have done that.
In the momentary bliss I forgot time was a constant moving variable and clocked in eleven minutes late at work. My boss hates me. The clients hate me because god forbid they have to form a line in the parking ten minutes before opening time.
Today was the day I decided I absolutely despise Thursdays.
I realize this every week. I do. But I hated today specially because Thursday is Leo’s day off.
I don’t know what I was expecting, the kid deserves his days off as much as me or anyone else does. He didn’t miss out on anything too critical except the ridiculous amount of clients that seemed to be waiting for the final twenty minutes of my shift to grab every item from the nearest shelves and throw them on the absolute opposite end of the slooowwwlyyyy rooooolliiiiiinnnngggg conveyor belt, as if I have all the time in the world, and they THINK I want to argue about the promotion we had last week but don’t have this week but they WANT it this week too, but I have to explain that promotions are like every single fucking thing in life, fucking TEMPORARY, WOMAN, GET A MOVE ON AND PAY FULL PRICE FOR A BLOODY CAN OF SAUSAGES.
Ah, Thursdays are inventory day. I didn’t leave the goddamned supermarket before midnight, and I’m honestly cheating you, dear diary, because it’s the eleventh already and I only just managed to sit down and rage write today’s events.
Ah but… before going to bed, I should add something.
I found something in my locker when I went to pick up my jacket. I didn’t notice it upon arriving in the morning, nor when I went to grab some money for lunch, but this was right on the door, at the level of my eyes, a post it note with a little message. Was it put there yesterday night? Sometime during the day?
«THE INTRIGUED READER BECOMES A WRITER AND THEN A READER ONCE MORE.»
Hello, dear friend, and welcome to A Day At Once!
What is this about?
A Day at Once was born out of the desire to create a growing narrative with a bunch of authors and contributors.
Every day (or in a consistent posting rhythm proportionate to the amount of contributors) a different person will be adding their contribution to it. It provokes the otherwise sedentary position of a reader, it reaches out to them to include their own twist in the conflict and make them the novelist for a little while. The goal is: 365 days - 365 contributors.
Wait, wait, so tons of people will create content for this? How will this work?
It may seem a little confusing at first, but once you get the hang of it, it should go pretty smoothly! At the beginning of each month, a calendar sheet will be made public, in which the participants can claim a day to post their work!
Can I participate?
That, my friend, is why you’re here! Whether you’re a writer, poet, artist, beta, other, or a mere spectator and fan of great content, you have a part to play in this story. You’re free to customize your entry as you see fit. A diary is something personal and you don’t always feel like writing; you can doodle a resume of your day, or sum it up in a poem, or a few photographs! You’re free to create whatever you wish, so long as it follows the general line of narrative of the previous entries! It goes without saying that the content has to be 100% original and created by YOU.
This sounds SWEET! How do I begin?!
Thank you for your excitement! First of all, finish reading this post and then fill out this application form. There will be no selection process but this is just a formality so we can easily keep track of the participants!
From then on, you’ll be given access to the Discord server, and all you have to do is to claim a day for the current month on the proper channel! When the day for your submission comes, we expect you to have caught up on previous entries and have yours ready as soon as possible!
Can I claim more than one day a month?
That depends on how much the group grows! If we’re thirty at some point, that would be perfect, since we can coordinate between ourselves, but if we grow to be sixty or more, we have to make room for everybody, and then you will only be able to claim a day every two months! You cannot submit content for two days in a row.
What if I need to drop/change my day?
Changing your day is pretty easy so long as your day isn’t “tomorrow” or worse, “today”. But life gets in the way and things happen - trust me, I know - and for those cases we’ll have a pinch hitter ready to cover for you! If no one’s available, one of your dearest mods will step in, and if no mod is available, then our character simply went to sleep without updating their diary! Any way, the moment you begin to realize you won’t have the availability to contribute on your assigned day, let a mod know as soon as possible!
Lol, so what if I kill off the character when my turn comes???
First of all: rude. Second of all, there will, of course, be some restrictions as to what you can and cannot do in your entry.
- No (main) character death;
- You can’t ignore the plot points that have been dropped in previous entries (if the main character is a woman, you can’t change the gender, if they’re a Gemini you can’t have their birthday in January, if they’re twenty-years-old, the only way to make them ten-years-old again is to describe a memory for instance, and so on);
- You should know that the storyline should be logical; if it’s turning out to be a story about cowboys, you wouldn’t include aliens, you know?
- (to be updated)
Are there any minimum requirements for our submissions?
Certainly there are!
For writers: At least 100 words;
For artists: Minimum one sketch (or a full piece to your standards);
For poets: Two stanzas minimum if couplets or tercets, one stanza minimum if quatrains or so on;
For others: Since this is a rather subjective area to set your creativity loose, the minimum requirement is something that could fill up a page!
Behind a great project is a team of overly excited nerds!
For starters, meet Rita!
I go by abyssiniana, though you may spot me online as CaptainDad or TakeShiroToMargaritaVille! I’m a Portuguese 22 year old writer and I can often be found playing with a cat or hovering the table of food at a social gathering. I’ve modded for zines before and participated in a bunch more! Super excited about bringing this project to life with you!
AO3 || TWITTER || TUMBLR
And Kumatt!
I’m kumatt ‘round these parts. I’m a 39 year old nerd and sometimes writer. I live with my boyfriend, our dog and our three cats. If I’m awake, odds are good I’m on a computer.
hi! just out of curiosity, can i know who are the mods participating in this project? also if we pick a much later date for ourselves (eg. november or december?), will there be a general plot summary to keep track on what has happened so far?
Hello and thank you for your question!
I’ll be working on a “Meet the mods” post sometime soon, but to summarize the small team we have for now, it’s just me (abyssiniana) and my good buddy Kumatt, who has kindly been helping me! As the project grows, we may come to need some more help in managing the contributors, posting and social media, so we may open mod applications as the need arises.
As for your second question, the claiming will happen monthly, through an editable spreadsheet available on our Discord server. If you’re looking to claim in November or December, then I’m afraid you will have to wait until then!
Also in our server, there’s a specific channel in which the contributors can add “plot points”, as in, things that they’ve included in their entry that cannot be changed across the story (the character’s gender identity, sexuality, academic history, tastes, possible traumas, relationships, etc etc). While it is essentially a “tl;dr” version of the story I still advise you to read through everything to both improve your experience and make your entry more accurate!
No! There's a section in the application form that asks you to confirm if you're +18 or not, but it's more of a warning rather than a requirement. Simply mind that the story may get violent, emotionally heavy or even sexual at some point. So long as you feel comfortable and mature enough to deal with that, it's perfectly okay!
Wondering what an entry looks like? What to expect? The text that follows is but a demonstration of what’s to come!
January 1st, it seems.
There’s something rather archaic about writing in the first page of a journal while being bathed in nothing but the light of a candle. Normally I wouldn’t mind it much, it does set a mood, but as the lone flame flickers, so does my soul, out of the impaling feeling of pure, raw, suffocating boredom.
Archaic as it might be, Benjamin Franklin’s been dead for quite some time now and the current world revolves around the connection he found between lightning and tiny electric sparks, an energy that has been temporarily taken from us.
With the storm raging outside, there’s been a general blackout in this part of town. No internet, no television, no working electronic devices, just me and the apartment I’ve been neglecting to clean for way too long. I didn’t clean anything at all, mind you, I was just moving and kicking things around to ease my access to the ceiling fan with the chair I dragged behind me and the rope that I still have around my neck.
From a higher angle, my feet on the seat of the chair, a blur through the futile tears I blinked away; that’s how I spotted you, partially hidden under layers of discarded smelly clothing, inside a plastic storage box with the last remnants of proof that I’ve actually been to college at some point in this life of mine. A shame I didn’t graduate, but also not really? Art school can set you free as much as it can castrate your spirit.
But there you were, all faux leather cover, a gift cast aside at the time, but full of stories yet untold. Unwritten, rather. Am I talking to you or are you talking to me? Am I writing with the hopes of it being read, or so that I can figure out what I’m trying to tell myself?
I only noticed the passage of the year because the neighbors from downstairs helpfully screamed the countdown with an excitement I only wished I could share. I laid my shaky hands on you with seven seconds to go and made the decision to start writing at the exact moment they yelled “zero”.
Am I just lonely, diary? Simply sad? New Year is supposed to be about new beginnings, but in the darkness of a world that moves onto 2019 without light, your pages called for an entry. For what it’s worth…
You stopped me from ending right at the beginning.
I end this entry with the desk lamp flickering awake.
- @abyssiniana
Intrigued? Curious? Itching to participate in the biggest collaborative story of the year?
«THE INTRIGUED READER BECOMES A WRITER AND THEN A READER ONCE MORE.»
Hello, dear friend, and welcome to A Day At Once!
What is this about?
A Day at Once was born out of the desire to create a growing narrative with a bunch of authors and contributors.
Every day (or in a consistent posting rhythm proportionate to the amount of contributors) a different person will be adding their contribution to it. It provokes the otherwise sedentary position of a reader, it reaches out to them to include their own twist in the conflict and make them the novelist for a little while. The goal is: 365 days - 365 contributors.
Wait, wait, so tons of people will create content for this? How will this work?
It may seem a little confusing at first, but once you get the hang of it, it should go pretty smoothly! At the beginning of each month, a calendar sheet will be made public, in which the participants can claim a day to post their work!
Can I participate?
That, my friend, is why you're here! Whether you're a writer, poet, artist, beta, other, or a mere spectator and fan of great content, you have a part to play in this story. You're free to customize your entry as you see fit. A diary is something personal and you don’t always feel like writing; you can doodle a resume of your day, or sum it up in a poem, or a few photographs! You’re free to create whatever you wish, so long as it follows the general line of narrative of the previous entries! It goes without saying that the content has to be 100% original and created by YOU.
This sounds SWEET! How do I begin?!
Thank you for your excitement! First of all, finish reading this post and then fill out this application form. There will be no selection process but this is just a formality so we can easily keep track of the participants!
From then on, you’ll be given access to the Discord server, and all you have to do is to claim a day for the current month on the proper channel! When the day for your submission comes, we expect you to have caught up on previous entries and have yours ready as soon as possible!
Can I claim more than one day a month?
That depends on how much the group grows! If we're thirty at some point, that would be perfect, since we can coordinate between ourselves, but if we grow to be sixty or more, we have to make room for everybody, and then you will only be able to claim a day every two months! You cannot submit content for two days in a row.
What if I need to drop/change my day?
Changing your day is pretty easy so long as your day isn't "tomorrow" or worse, “today”. But life gets in the way and things happen - trust me, I know - and for those cases we'll have a pinch hitter ready to cover for you! If no one's available, one of your dearest mods will step in, and if no mod is available, then our character simply went to sleep without updating their diary! Any way, the moment you begin to realize you won’t have the availability to contribute on your assigned day, let a mod know as soon as possible!
Lol, so what if I kill off the character when my turn comes???
First of all: rude. Second of all, there will, of course, be some restrictions as to what you can and cannot do in your entry.
- No (main) character death;
- You can't ignore the plot points that have been dropped in previous entries (if the main character is a woman, you can't change the gender, if they're a Gemini you can't have their birthday in January, if they're twenty-years-old, the only way to make them ten-years-old again is to describe a memory for instance, and so on);
- You should know that the storyline should be logical; if it's turning out to be a story about cowboys, you wouldn't include aliens, you know?
- (to be updated)
Are there any minimum requirements for our submissions?
Certainly there are!
For writers: At least 100 words;
For artists: Minimum one sketch (or a full piece to your standards);
For poets: Two stanzas minimum if couplets or tercets, one stanza minimum if quatrains or so on;
For others: Since this is a rather subjective area to set your creativity loose, the minimum requirement is something that could fill up a page!
titsay
turnnoffyourmind
gamechangershow
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
germansingergirl
romaincrisis