Deeply Rooted
<< 6:46 p.m. - Thursday, Jan. 26, 2006 >>
The mounted and dried bamboo branch is faced upward toward the gray shit sky. It inhales rain; it opens its mouth to the downpour. And then suddenly it is full of rainwater. The branch bends forward to release it�s stored up liquid and clacks loudly against another branch.

Yeah, whatever I�m talking about a deer scare, but more in a metaphorical sense. You see I keep going back and forth on the issue of Erik. I keep tolerating things until they build up and I say really hurtful things and cool down. Blame it all on myself for being the bitch. I am a bitch, there�s no doubt in that fact. But my rudeness doesn�t excuse Erik�s actions.

Today, holding Erik�s meager check so that I could cash it, (since he can�t manage his own money enough to have one himself), Susan, a girl from high school attempted to look at the amount. It would have been strange enough if it was my check, this girl hasn�t acknowledged my presence in years, but then I haven�t acknowledged her either. Anyway, she asks how much it is, and I say it isn�t mine it is Erik�s. We look in the direction of my boyfriend standing behind the register of 155? Grill. And the next thing I know, she scoffs and tells me loudly, �Look where he ended up after high school!� I paused, reeling in the fact that someone ACTUALLY said the words I always feared people would say about him. I turned to her and told her she was incredibly rude and walked away.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I don�t want to take care of him. It isn�t my responsibility. And I don�t want to wait around until he gets his shit together. I � probably won�t change anything. I can�t stand to hurt him. I don�t know what to do.