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Writing, Again

These stories I posted in my previous blog, now lost in the Bermuda Triangle of “posts that came before.”  Please to enjoy, or not.


The Bus

The wind was bitter cold. Her cheeks burned, blazing a painful red. She tucked her chin into the collar of her coat, her breath steaming. She stepped carefully down the un-shoveled sidewalk, her entire body clenching in on itself in a futile effort to stay warm.

A part of her welcomed the cold. There was something sadly ironic about piling on thermals, sweaters, coats hats gloves and scarves – and still feeling the bite of wind down to her bones. No matter how she guarded, shielded herself, there was always cold. Always pain.

Her eyes glued to the beaten path before her. To her feet as they trudged on. She wished she had a good pair of boots; the Airwalks she wore were only a year old, but the thick rubberized fabric was already tearing, pulling away from the sole. He feet would be wet and cold all day. She’d stop in at the thrift store, but boots were hard to find. Everyone needed them – they sold as quickly as they were brought in.

Her eyes filled suddenly, and she gave a strong sniff, shaking her head. The last thing she needed was to be crying as she walked down the street. Not only would it be embarrassing to be seen in that state, but the tears would cloud her eyes, and she could step wrong, not seeing a patch of ice or a huge shard of broken glass (why did people feel the need to throw bottles onto sidewalks?). Then she’d be on her ass, crying and hurt with twisted ankle or deep cut. Why add to her problems?

She reached the bus stop without incident. And with ten minutes still to wait. She’d missed enough buses to know that it would be better to pace the corner for a few minutes than to face the decision to walk back home, knowing she’d have to make the trek again. So she paced, walking circles around a guard railing. She pulled her phone from her pocket to check the time. Eight minutes till the bus. Six minutes. Five.

She tried not to think, of anything. Being idle was cruelly anxious. Waiting was torture. Her mind wanted to wander, to touch on those random ideas that made pain flicker inside her, electric. She looked again at her phone. Three minutes. That was good. Maybe the bus would be early.

Traffic blew by her as she raised her eyes to the corner the bus would turn down. She felt embarrassed and exposed standing on the corner. She pulled her coat tighter around her. Her hands were clenched in her pockets, her toes curled in her shoes. Her hat – an old black knit Adidas cap – was pulled down just below her eyebrows, almost too low for her to see. She bounced on the balls of her feet, willing the bus to appear.

Finally! The white and blue monster grumbled around the corner, trailing a steam of exhaust. She groped in her jeans pocket for her bus money. She should really just buy a pass for convenience sake, but she somehow felt the physical presence of the dollar and quarter reassuring. She kicked the snow for her shoes before stepping up the blue treaded stairs. The bus hissed with heat, making her hands and feet ache with excruciating relief. After slipping her fare in the box, she settled into a middle seat. The bus roared, shook, and trundled down the busy street.

Brown eyes, shimmering slightly, took in the scene as it passed by the window. The dirty looking shops, the shoddy little houses. The gas station she was surprised still remained opened, after having been the site of so much violence over the years. The Walgreens she would walk to on days when she just needed to walk somewhere. Her whole life had been lived in this run-down part of town. She wondered if she’d ever escape it. If she even wanted to.

She closed her mind to the thought. Her eyes glazed over as she shut down. Enjoying the warmth of the bus, the satisfaction of being out in the world. The fear of being out in the world, however briefly. Maybe today, she’d smile at someone, and they’d smile back. They’d talk. They’d laugh.  And that would be good. That would be good enough for today.

She smiled, and it hurt her wind-burnt cheeks.


The Pain

Her heart ached. Literally.

The intensity of the feeling was so powerful, a physical blow that knocked her to her knees. She didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend the feeling – the gnawing, burning pain in her chest. Her hands went to the spot, eyes wide as she looked down. She half expected to see blood seeping through her shirt, staining her hands.

Her confusion added to the pain, and she doubled over, gasping. A shudder passed through her, chilling her even as her chest caught fire, exploding. Freezing, shivering while she burned with agony.

The fire found her face, her eyes, and they stung bitterly as they filled. At once, a dam burst, and she buried her face in her hands as tears poured from her. Sobs wrenched her body. From head to toe she burned hot and cold. Her muscles clenched uncontrollably, locking her into a tortured caricature of a human being.

She felt she couldn’t breathe, the pain was too great, her cries too overpowering. She gasped, and the feeling of drawing a breath made her throat raw. She coughed, then gagged. It was all too much. The tears pouring from her eyes, the seeping of her nose, the incredible pain in her chest.

What was this? If this was heartache, heartbreak, she hadn’t though it would be anything this physical. Her body convulsed, and fresh sobs poured anew. Uncontrollable. Every nerve in her body sizzled. Her veins throbbed with the maddening, wrenching beat of her heart.

Kneeling on the floor, her stomach clenched then turned. Acid boiled up her throat. She reached around blindly, finding a nearby trash-can and dragging it over just in time to empty her stomach. A blinding pain seared around her midsection as she heaved repeatedly. Dry retches followed, and coughs that tore at her throat. She moaned, her head hanging, the smell of vomit and bile burning her nose.

She collapsed onto her side, drained and exhausted. The tears, never ending, leaked across the bridge of her nose, pooling in the cup of her ear before spilling and soaking into the carpet beneath her. A feeling of heaviness settled over her like a concrete blanket. Like a lead casing. The fire still burned in her chest, but it had reduced from an all-out inferno the the dull steady heat of a blacksmith’s forge. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than an end.

She awoke hours later, maybe days. Laying prone on the cold floor, every muscle cramped and sore. Her eyes felt thick and gummy, eyelashes clinging to each other with every blink. The room was dark, night had fallen, and she somehow felt relieved by the company of shadows.

Slowly she sat up, propping herself on one arm. Her hand rubbed roughly at her eyes, grinding the salt crust from them; wiping her hand down her face, grimy from all the tears. Looking around the grey-shaded room, she felt dazed, disconnected. She felt strangely calm, and utterly empty.

Shakily, she got to her feet. She just stood there, unsure of what her next action should be. She felt like a robot whose programming had been wiped. The irony lifted the corner of her mouth – the slightest movement – before disappearing beneath a wave of vacuity.

She was vaguely aware of the sick smell in the room, and mechanically set to emptying the trash, opening a window, and setting her apartment to rights. Collecting the cell phone she’d dropped after receiving the call, setting it into its changer. Sweeping the contents of her purse back into the leather bag: her keys, lipgloss, a hand-full of loose change, a wallet open to a picture of a striking man with auburn hair and laughing hazel eyes.

Alone in the darkness, the quiet, she wondered briefly if a heart could grow back. After being so thoroughly removed. The thought passed.


Last Night’s Dream

I dreamed of this guy last night.  You can read about him in the post “An Unhealthy Relationship.”  Yeah, that guy.  Read the blog, I won’t give any backstory in this one.

In the dream, I was at home.  Ironically being sad because my Twitter followers had fallen from 22 to 17, and I couldn’t figure out why.  @PessimisticLaw dropped me!  AND @Jay_Squires!  (I’m name-dropping, but it’s true.)

So there I am, lamenting my drop in fame, when I get a call from the aformentioned guy.  I don’t know why I listened, but when he said he’d come pick me up I agreed.

*blurry lost moments*

We’re at his house, and suddenly we’re in bed.  Now let me mention here that the guy does have a girlfriend.  The same girl he’s been with for like, 15 years plus.  So yeah, we’re gonna be doing some cheating.

Anyway, there we are in bed, and he’s saying all the right stuff – how he’s missed me, how he’s wanted me, how he’s so happy we’re gonna be having the sex now.  Apparently he’s really happy.  So happy that that he has to stop very soon after we start!  Either I am that good, or the man has been without for a while!

After a calming breather, it’s on to Take #2.  And things are progressing well, I’m enjoying myself.  So much so that when I next open my eyes, I see his girlfriend in the room, moving about like she doesn’t even notice us!  HAH!

The guy doesn’t see the need to stop, but being a lady, I DO.  So I quickly gather my things and run off to the bathroom – which is disgustingly filthy, by the way.  While I’m in there, doing my delicate girly things, the girlfriend walks in and starts to dump some eggs and hashbrowns from a pan into the toilet.  Thoughtfully, she asks me if I’d be interested in them – I assume they were for the guy, but as he has displeased her, his breakfast is now to be flushed.  I decline, and try to apologize.  She waves me off and heads back to the kitchen.

Now, and you boys might want to avert your eyes for this next part, I realize that all the sexin’ has caused my period to start, and I’ve literally soaked through my jeans.  Eww, right?  Guess that’s the price I pay.

I dart out to my car (which has magically appeared), grateful for the faux leather seats that are so easy to clean, and head home.  /Dream.


Don’t think I need to spend too much time figuring out the meaning behind this dream, right?

A)  I want to get laid.

B)  This is not the guy to do it with.

C)  Did I mention I need to get laid?

If I Only Had A Brain

“It is such an uncomfortable feeling to know one is a fool.”

L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

Blah.  I’m feeling stupid today.  Like I just can’t do anything right, or do anything meaningful.  How can I do anything meaningful when I am just so damn stupid?  =/  I can’t.  I’m so sick of myself.  I’m sick of listening to myself.  Every thought is so… trite.  I have nothing worth saying, I can’t do anything…

I’ve been feeling anxious all day.  And I hate being asked, “why are you anxious?”  Because!  Do I really need to nail down a reason?  It doesn’t help.  More often than not it just makes me depressed.  So, anxious, depressed, and stupid.  Oh, I feel like such a failure, and I’ve barely even tried!  What’s the point in trying?!

Damnit…  No one can beat me up like I can.  Days like this, I feel like I’ve gone twelve rounds with myself already, and the day isn’t done.  I’m sorry for whining, I hate whining.  And now I’m pissed at myself.  Anxious, depressed, stupid, and pissed.

I don’t know what to do.  Hope tomorrow is better, I guess.  Write this crap down, like it means anything.  Sigh repeatedly at the inane futility that is my life.  Laugh at myself, maybe cry a little.  Ugh, how pathetic am I?


The WWW IS Big and Scary, truly!

The little story that precedes this post is obviously my own view of things.  Yes, I am a scared little squirrel.  You may have seen my re-Tweets about the Web of Loneliness (if you’ve been paying attention, which I don’t fault you for not doing).  It is a cause close to my heart.  Loneliness, that is.  It is something I’ve been dealing with for many years, though until recently, I wasn’t completely aware!

Like little Winnifred, I spent many years having good times with friends.  But, I didn’t share with them my feelings of sadness and confusion.  My depression over losing my father.  My growing problems with anxiety.  And as the years went by, the separation between us grew too great – they wanted the happy, fun Viki, and it became too much of a struggle trying to express my feelings to them.  Why I didn’t feel like going to the bar, why I was sad, why I was angry!  I realize now that the disconnect from them made me feel bitter.  Bitterly lonely.  Because they’d never known what I’d been going through.  I didn’t want them to.  I didn’t want to be “Sad Viki” around them.

That disconnect lost me my friends.  Because I just couldn’t stand to be myself with them any longer.  I couldn’t stand to pretend; I couldn’t stand to tell the truth.

So I retreated.  I ran away.  I cut them off, practically mid-sentence.  And apart from a few online “relationships,” I kept myself to myself.  Several years went by, when I languished by my lake.  Thinking I’d found peace, when really all I’d found was a place for my hurt and loneliness to fester.  And fester.

It was after a relationship, “IRL,” had failed, that I really succumbed to loneliness.  That I really realized how very much I wanted someone to hear and understand me.  That I realized how little I told anyone about my life.  About all the feelings I was so ashamed to have.  And in a moment of devastating clarity, after curling my tail around myself like a blanket and beginning to walk away – I took a moment to look.

I searched Google – tags loneliness, chat, group – and found a group of voices that made sense to me.  I was desperate, so desperate.  I was calling my “Helloooo” when I posted, and soon felt myself surrounded.  I didn’t know that could happen.  I was so honestly surprised.  Amazed.  I read so many stories that reminded me of myself and realized that while all of us felt so heartbreakingly alone – we weren’t!

I wasn’t.

After a while, with the support of others, I began to write.  Initially, to blog.  Anything that came to mind.  Writing was always a source of comfort to me, and the blogs I wrote there (which you can find here now) were a sometimes painful release.  But I was encouraged.  I was supported.  And while this was an alien feeling to me, scary even, I wanted it so badly that I continued and gave more.

And yes, eventually I was called upon by the great stag to take my writing further, lol.  Because apparently what I had written seemed powerful enough to him and others that I should share it.  Take it further and explore.  And that’s what I’m trying to do.

I can’t forget who gave me strength when I needed it.  To them I dedicate everything.  Whatever I say that has any worth, it is in debt to the WOL, the Web of Loneliness.

I am still, as Winnifred is, calling my faint “hellooooo” and hoping that someone hears.

The WWW is Big and Scary

The Wide, Whirling World

Picture a squirrel. Squirrels are cute and mostly harmless. This squirrel, we shall name her Winnifred, spends quite a bit of her formative years happily frolicking with the other squirrels of the forest. Or so we think! In fact, poor little Winnifred has been experiencing a lot of sadness and confusion. She finds that being around all the happy squirrels makes her feel deeply alone. So when it becomes entirely too much, Winnifred scampers off on quiet little feet.

She finds a nice, solitary and serene spot by a lake. It’s a bit swampy, but it’s peaceful. And here Winnifred settles. She enjoys a rare conversation with the chance dragonfly that passes by. She passes the time with a badger who waddles to the lake to fish occasionally. And by way of a nervous starling, she keeps a vague ear to the world behind her.

In her self-imposed isolation, Winnifred’s fears and sadness are her truest companions. But even the best companions can become wearisome after a time. And so Winnifred musters up what courage and determination she could find, and sets off to re-introduce herself to the wider world.

Unbeknownst to Winnifred, the wide world had changed! And she finds herself so completely and entirely lost! She’d been used to her quiet world with few contacts and only the barest of news. Here, suddenly, she was confronted with a sprawling metropolis, interconnected in so many new and fascinating ways. And it was all so horribly intimidating.

Timidly, she whispers, “Hello?” and the squirrels she had once known sped by her, not hearing, not noticing. She wades deeper, calling, “Hellooo?” She finds herself desperate to be acknowledged, after such a long time alone.

Stepping further into the bewildering chaos, often stopped short by a confounding cloud of hummingbirds who sweep across her way like a mini dust-storm, Winnifred reaches the end of her courage. Collapsing into a shivering ball of fur, her tail wrapping around herself like a blanket, she piteously weeps.

How could she move on? How could she find a place in this busy, busy world? It was all so overwhelming! Her thoughts raced, her heart pounded painfully, and Winnifred found herself so frightened and wanting nothing more than to retreat to her quiet life by the lake.

She rose on shaky little feet, and made her way to retreat. Wiping tears from her face with her tail, she spied something curious. A group of animals, standing out of the way of the humming and buzzing, were holding hands and talking quietly. Winnifred’s heart swelled at the thought of this real connection, and inched closer.

Spying from behind a tree, Winnifred heard the critters talking – rabbits and badgers, ‘possums and mice, even squirrels like herself talking with great tall deer! A motley assortment, and of all things, they were talking about how hard it was to fit into this whirling world!

Creeping closer, Winnifred did the most daring thing of her entire life: she coughed. Dozens of heads turned her way. Freezing, her tail bushed out straight up behind her, eyes wide and glistening, she quietly whispered, “hello.”

Within moments, she was surrounded. Passed from one embracing hug to another! From paw to hoof to claw to wing, Winnifred was tenderly welcomed and praised. To a one, each told her their stories, tales short and winding – of how they longed to connect and were so afraid to! And Winnifred told hers, how hurt and alone she’d been, how she’d run so far, and come back to a place so strange and scary.

Within hours, she felt at home. Loved and supported by this wild and eclectic group of strangers. The leader of the group, a proud and winsome stag with towering antlers on which she so graciously perched, encouraged her to step out once again into the world. To share with others the tale she had to give. For he and the others found her way with words touching and compelling. Perhaps Winnifred could reach out and find others who felt as lost and alone in this great world. Perhaps her words could give them comfort, and lead them to a home they’d never known!

And so Winnifred stepped. Every move tremulous and timid. She would often look back to find one of the extraordinary flock urging her on, giving her confidence for that next step. So deeper went Winnifred, calling her “hellooo”s, speaking to every creature who would pause to listen. She called to the hummingbirds, to the squirrels who would hear, to the trees to pass along what she’d learned.

Every step frightened her. With every step she wanted to go back. But the menangerie (as they were for they were kept caged within themselves in fear) urged her on. If not in word, in her heart. For after hearing their stories, feeling their silent suffering, she felt compelled, beyond her own fear, to reach out and give the comfort she had found to others.

And so, with quiet desperation, and quite a bit of agitation, Winnifred pushed on, and pushes on still, through the wild, whirling world. Through her fear and self-doubt, she calls her faint “Hellooooo,” and hopes to be heard.


I belong to a site,  I came across it last year, after a failed relationship left me feeling so bitterly alone.  My ex, J.E., wasn’t a great friend, or great boyfriend.  He was decent in the sack, but that’s besides the point.

Leaving him made me realize the extent of my loneliness.  The fact that I considered going back to him, just to not be “alone” was a major factor in my getting online and searching for… something.  Something that would relieve the gnawing ache inside me.  Something that would help.

I wound up signing up for the site, and posting an introduction.  I was 100% sure I wouldn’t be back.  I was just so desperate to just feel some sort of connection.

Hello. ^^ I hate intros, haven’t done one on a forum in years, but here goes!

My name’s Viki, though most people call me Kit now. Kit Smart, after a crazy poet from a million years ago. Anyway. I joined the site on a whim, after another bout of painful loneliness. I’m usually OK with being, for the most part, alone. But sometimes, y’know, it’s bad. ‘Bad’ doesn’t describe it. =/ I have panic/anxiety/depression issues, and enough agoraphobia that a trip on the bus to get smokes takes a lot out of me. I’ve cut off most of my old friends, years ago, because I just couldn’t ‘keep up.’ I’d get tired of talking about how I feel, and fending off their attempts to ‘help.’ Bless their clueless hearts.

So, yeah. I’ve pretty much made the choice to be alone. To not ‘burden’ others with my fucked-up-ness. I’ve had a few unsuccessful attempts at relationships, the last one ending a couple months ago. He wasn’t good for me, but I was lonely, and he provided a bit of a respite.. I’m glad it’s over, but now..

Sometimes I’d kill just for someone to talk with. I cry myself to sleep because life is overwhelming, and there isn’t a soul to talk to. Just one person I can have a connection with, y’know? ^^;

That a good intro? ^^;

I really didn’t expect anything to come from it.  And I was crazy surprised at the response I got:

Truth in life I’ve discovered is that everyone has some amount of fucked-up-ness. Everyone does, some people are just better at hiding it than others. The real trick is perhaps finding someone who will put up with your fucked-up-ness as much as you would put up with theirs. And that is a real trick!

I’d found someplace where the trick was real.  I found a place where all of my feelings, every one, were accepted.  Where I didn’t feel disregarded or ignored.  Where, when I was feeling so painfully low, someone was there to lend a hand to help me up.  That was, immense.


My personal journey with loneliness started with depression.  A deep and all-abiding depression starting when my father died.  And was further complicated with anxiety, a constant companion since I was about 17.  I had friends, close friends, but there was always a line, things I couldn’t – wouldn’t – share with them.  And though so many good times were had, over the years the separation grew into a chasm.  I felt worse, and they didn’t know.  Things, life, got so fucking hard for me, every single day.  And even when I tried to explain myself, I knew they didn’t understand.  My hurt kept eating at me, and the isolation finally took over.

I cut myself off from those friends.  Those loving, caring, positive people.  Because there was no comfort to be found there.  I loved them, entirely.  But the pain they brought with their love was too much to bear.  I felt, like I think all of us feel at some time or another, that no one understood me.  And perhaps, no one ever would.

I spent a few years drifting from one romantic entanglement to another, always thinking that this one, this person, really understood me.  And more, that they were the cure for my loneliness!  I assured myself this was so.  And when things ended, as relationships tend to do, I would feel so deeply rejected and unworthy.  I’d shared with this person the things I had hidden for so long – and in the end, they’d confirmed what I’d come to believe.  That I was, truly, unlovable.

I’d actually come up with my own saying about my life – Viki Flair, easy to fall in love with, impossible to love.


Back to the present, to the WOL.

I have been overwhelmed with the support the members of this site can give.  Even when in the depths of their own excruciating feelings, they are so often there to give support and comfort to people who find there way there.  It is a constant source of amazement to me.  That, when we don’t have enough to give to ourselves, we still find something to give to others!

I count every one a friend.  From Steve, my dearest friend, who makes me laugh, to Tommy, who is so damn easy to love.  From Mary H, who inspires me, and to Carmelia who gives me faith.  From Ed, who is a stead-fast friend and just awesomely talented, to Adam, who is so cool and fun and surprising.  From Craig, who is an amazing writer, to Jon, who is too damn smart for his own good.  And Debbie, my long lost soul-sister.  🙂  Every single member of the site has touched my life, has given me hope, understanding, confidence.  And all I want to do is give that back!

I won’t credit Dr. Sean Seepersad with saving my life, that would be overly dramatic – but I do credit him for easing a loneliness that had become painfully overwhelming.  I thank him for the support I have found on his site.  For the friendships that I’ve made.  For the challenges that I’ve face and overcome.  I thank him, wholeheartedly, for creating a place where I feel I belong.  For a place that has encouraged me to believe in myself.

It’s a feeling I’m still not entirely comfortable with.    But with the help of the WOL, I’m trying.

I still feel lonely.  I wonder if that’s not something in my genetic make-up.  Like alcoholism or diabetes.  Loneliness can be so debilitating.  And, in fact, deadly.  So it’s no wonder I’m so grateful for the site.

I didn’t mean for this blog to wind up as a PSA.  Didn’t intend to use it as a furtherence for Sean’s cause.  But, since it is a cause I believe in…

If you’re a blogger, a Tweeter, or god forbid some kind of reporter!  Or anyone who has suffered from the deep ache of loneliness – please give a thought to reading Sean’s proposal on Indiegogo.  Watch the YouTube video, the WOL Unselfie Project.  Give what you can, even if it’s just a like, or a mention.

Sean Seepersad’s WebOfLoneliness has meant so much to me personally.  I’d like to see what more he could do with support.

“Everything that follows is a result of what you see here.”

Yes, I loved I, Robot.


All previous posts were gathered from my blog on the site,  It is because of those posts, and the replies from some truly amazing people there, that this current blog exists.  It is because of the site that I’m here.  I’ve dealt with loneliness and depression for over twenty years now.  I have run the self-hatred gamut back and forth, not believing in myself for a second, for years.

It is primarily due to the site and the people there that I have even the slightest confidence that I can do this.  Write.  Be honest.  Let whatever is in me touch something in someone else.

And suddenly I’m reminded of my brother’s teasings regarding tentacle porn.  I swear I won’t rape you!  Probably.

I don’t write smart stuff.  I have no advice to give.  I have no political leanings, no secret agendas (aside from possibly becoming rich off the crap that I spew).  I’m just doing what I can to be honest.  And hoping that someone out there appreciates that, and can find some meaning for themselves in it.

That’s it.  Look forward to more crap to follow!  🙂

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