Sausalito Runaway

December 14, 2008
By Rebecca DeConcini, Tucson, AZ

”I know that trouble’s been your good friend,” it’s been mine as well. Reminiscing on my past often leaves me with the cold tinge of regret. The difference is I don’t let it engulf me; swallow me whole like Jonah inside the whale, like the sea surrounding that whale. I ride atop the green waves, dip my toes in the chilled waters, but sail on, eyes set on my destination.

”Catch your company on the weekend, catch your company even once your mind was made.” The things you talked of, the way your eyes darted from side to side made you seem nervous, trapped. I know you’ve taken off again, run away from your problems like the coward I used to be. I see myself in you, the dark, sunken eyes. The insomnia, the anxiety pass from neuron to neuron, I can tell it’s more than you can take. What’s waiting for you there? Is it the new life you envisioned? Is it the fresh start, clean slate? Chances are you’ve gone back to your old ways. The drugs, now without a roof how can you abstain?

”You said, it's over and it's finished,” you couldn’t stand these walls anymore, they’re holding you back. You said there’s a world out there waiting for you, that you were wasting your time. They’re not waiting. You’re a parasite clinging to this planet for life. Salvation may be too much to ask. What was wrong with the town you grew up in, with the coffee shop down the street, the waitress always smiling. You remember the bar at night, walls blurring, features blending like water paint. I hope I wasn’t wasting your time.

”Now a headache's all you're left with,” as you remember the warmth of your bed. When you return will it be to open arms? Will it be to something you left; now broken by your departure, now with a needle in my arm, an atheist pleading at the alter? God, if there’s a hell, this is it.

”We're no different I've got debts I'd like to pay.” Injuries can be mended, but the scars will remain. You’ve done nothing for your guilt, the thoughts still weigh on your mind. When you close your eyes, do you even grant yourself remorse? When you close your eyes, do you remember me as I was, or the f***ed up mess I’ve become? Come back, for yourself, for me, you’re the only one who can fix this.

The author's comments:
Not really sure what this is, so I'll call it a "snipit."

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