A pointilistic slug
Nick's asleep, snoring asleep, I see him roughly for 2 of his waking hours a day these days. He works hard, he fired someone today, someone that told him if he doesn't learn to take it easy, he'll die soon. Maybe that's why he fired him.
I however, cannot sleep. You see this fucking Vicodin is making me have some really shitty dreams, and I've had shitty dreams from other drugs... Nyquil being my favourite. But these are fucking nightmares you see. The kind that had me screaming in my sleep so much that I woke up screaming at 2am last evening. The kind wherein the screaming came from picking one two many tapeworm slug like creatures out of my skin, gross things that crawled inside me and mutated into these enormous feeding creatures eating me from the inside out. Only to have a small bit peek through the skin, that when I pick at it to come out, this enormous fucking creature comes out of me.
I fucking hate drugs.
I don't know if it's the pills, the pain, the constant urge to puke, the nausea from being in a job that I'm progressively hating, that my grandmother's slowing dying each day, the throbbing in my front teeth that even though the stupid dentish said will go away, somehow I know, I fucking know that it won't. As much as I know slugs are crawling around inside me.
I lay awake, twisting and turning, afraid. I broke down crying tonight when Nick finally came home, huge sobs that just opened up the wounds again. I lay there, thinking of creative things, images in my head that I wish, I WISH that I could pick up a paper and pad and draw, paint ... or even write. I have a thousand beginnings and then nothing after. I've always wanted to be creative.
But, I'm not.
One of the things that plague me to this day, in elementary school, something that an art teacher thought I drew was posted on the school's main bulletin board. Front and center. A butterfly, pointillism style. It was on 8'x11', printing paper. She thought that I did it, that I laboured for hours, putting each tiny dot to paper. It was the early 90s, or late 80s, can't remember what year, but it was early/late enough for me to have a computer, an Apple, back then Macintosh... that I used some graphics program and took their butterfly and printed it out. She didn't know. I'm not sure how she didn't know. That fucking butterfly was tacked to that bulletin board for about a month when it was replaced with the other theme for another month. I walked by it maybe 4 times.
I still feel fucking guilty.
There was thing that I actually did draw though, this was maybe junior high school... very Vermeer, I loved the Dutch you see. A vase, bursting with flowers. Not sure how I did it, but it looked kinda like this:
It was pretty damn cool. I'm sure it exists somewhere. I drew it with Craypas. I still remember what those smell like.
I need some sleep. I feel empty. Haven't really eaten anything for about two days.