Today

I walked along. my hand in my love's, trying to memorize each tan colored rock. Water flowed steadily through only half its bed but the sand that touched air held damp traces of recent rain. Cars whizzed by on the bridge above us non-stop creating a predictable rhythem of sound. I couldn't see completely around the giant concrete columns that held up the bridge; I wouldn't hear if someone approached from behind. I shivered. He squeezed my hand and the pressure traveled up my arm. I felt as if he held all of me instead of just a few fingers. I looked ahead. We would leave the bridge's shade soon. A green trashbin with a black liner stood out from some concrete steps in the sunshine.

"What are you thinking?" I asked, looking up into his blue eyes.

He pulled me closer to himself and shook his head. I looked around and jumped. A man sat quietly on the steps, grinning in our direction. I had missed his presence during my earlier inspection. I looked away quickly clinging to my love's hand. The only thing I remembered of the man was he held a paper bag.

page 80 of my journal

I wrote this while I had a migraine last January.

"Pain. Ever on the edge of my concious, waiting, for me to surcum to its plea. Striking me through hunger. Sadness. A bitter battle always lost by myself. The cost of losing is the pain, the cost of winning, my own restraint.

Today I lose.

Sweet delicious tootsie rolls melting in my mouth, giving me the appearance of chocolate. The endorfines of love. And I collaps having taken 800 miligrams of Ibprophen and slip into [his] large warm gray hoodie before letting my dreams take me away from this pain."