In the wee small hours…


How much more comfortable it would all be if the knowledge that something is right for me were directly related to how “easy” it is to do. There is nothing easy about this. I have so many questions to which I will probably never have answers. Would it help if I could go back in time? Was there one moment, one night, one week that changed everything? The silence is shattering. Time will heal, it always does, but at present my recourse is to sit with discomfort, something I’ve not had much luck with in the past. But I shall try. I love you. I miss you. Don’t know what else I can do but breathe and hope for the best. I wish I knew you were safe. I think you are, but the silence that shatters leaves fear in its wake. Thank God for time. And gentle sleep aids. And my Louie.

7 thoughts on “In the wee small hours…

  1. “Would it help if I could go back in time?” The answer is within a small shop in S-Peterburg, where ex-underground artists exhibit their jobs for sale. I mean a collection of clocks by Kirill Miller, all strange but working. One of them is a black round one with no digits but with a sentence at the upper left sector: “Anyway I always be late”. All digits are at the lower right sector, crowded chaotic.
    NB. By the way, Laura, may I write in Russian?

    • Andrew – you may, and while I’ll be able to pronounce it – I’ve taught myself cyrillic – unless you’re saying “I speak a little Russian” “black dog” or “girl eats” – I may not understand! And your English is so fluent ….

  2. does anyone have the guts to tell you to your face that you look way too skinny ? i sure don’t , but you sure do . might that play a part in your insomnia ? since you are a late bloomer maybe it is time you sought some help .

    • Does anyone have the guts, you ask. As you admit that you don’t, I assume that you know me. But I also assume that we’ve not dined together because anyone who has had the pleasure of dining with me can vouch for my hearty and unladylike appetite. I have a small frame. I have fluctuated in weight since I’ve been this height but I’ve never been what one could call “full figured”. I have had sleeping problems my entire life – something else you’d likely know if you were a close enough acquaintance that you could comment on my weight. And finally, “time I sought some help” – real friends – anyone want to field that one? I am a work in progress and have never wanted to stop working. My self-esteem is healthy. My current relationship status is not. My weight plays no role in either. Thanks for reading.

    • Water, water, water. Where should we begin? Geolocate your IP and come say ‘Hello’? Argue elegantly against such idiocy? Try to reason with you? Perhaps quote some literary musings? These, if not victory, would be yet revenge (ho ho, see what I did there? Oh, no, you probably didn’t). Our gal has already said everything that needs to be said below, with candor and wit that bespeak her finest qualities. I’m just curious as to why you’re even here and what you’re hoping to achieve. quasi-praeteritio aside (Look it up. And then look up what happened to its progenitor) your comment is hardly a literary masterpiece. Perhaps you’ll be the late bloomer. Though perhaps not. Now, kindly, fuck off.

  3. Water, etc. needn’t necessarily fuck off — I appreciate the readership — but the implication that I live in a world where no one dare put me in my place or tell me what I need to do to shape up (physically and mentally) is an odd one considering much of my content thus far. And the notion that a 42-year-old person in NY has never “sought help” is hard to fathom. I appreciate the concern, couched though it may have been in critique.

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