(no subject)

[nowherefast]

 

I went to see Dave. I’d finally decided I needed to get high again in order to handle everything that’s happening to me, and I know he can fix drugs if I ask him to. I think the reason I liked him at first is because he has to do anything I ask but ever since he tricked me I can’t help but feel wary of him.

Then again, it’s possible I never liked him as a person until now. He was just a tool for me to get my way. But I think he thinks he knows better than me what I really want and that makes him difficult because he won’t listen to me.

I asked him for cocaine and he tried all kinds of ways to not give it to me, but in the end he had to, and I took it right there by the counter. I don’t understand why everyone insists that I’m a good person when I do things like that. I guess I wanted to disgust him because it was easier for me when I could pretend that he liked to hurt me, but he’s always so kind and patient with me that I want to scream.

It wasn’t real cocaine, of course. Whatever it was it didn’t give a high that was nearly enough, so I got angry with him. I was really unfair towards him but I was just so mad. I haven’t been high for all the time I’ve been stuck here and I’ve never felt worse than I did when I decided to go see him. I felt all empty and hollow and dark inside. I’ve never wanted to give up before but since I’m dead it hardly feels like there’s any reason to keep going. Even Jamie and Don can’t help that. I feel better when I’m with them, but I just want to feel strong and alive again. And I really needed something to help me stop thinking about last night or I thought I would break open and die all over again, except much worse.

I don’t remember exactly what I did or said to Dave, maybe because I don’t want to. He’s a good person, it’s just that he has to deal with people like me all the time. But I told him that unless he gave me the drugs, he’d have to hurt me again, and that he’d have to mean it. And he said he could never hurt me and mean it, that I could only manipulate his actions, not his feelings. I guess that’s fair. I don’t think I would want to control his feelings, anyway. That’s too much like breaking into someone’s head. But I was angry and I think I was scared, too, that I’d keep feeling like a void unless something changed. Like I said, I was being unfair. I just wanted to get high and forget.

He looked at me and said, “I can do better”. I told him he couldn’t to see if he would prove it. I both wanted him to and not. He kind of scares me, Dave. Not in the way that Don does. It’s more that I want Dave to be something and when he isn’t I don’t know what to do about it because I keep thinking that maybe next time I can make him be what I want. But I guess it’s like he said, I’m not controlling him. Just what he does.

And it scares me that maybe he’s right, that he does know me better than I do. 

I didn’t think he could do better, though. I’m not sure why. He belongs to the house, so of course he can do things. But maybe it’s more that I never expect him to do the things he does.

We went to his room, as usual, but it wasn’t there anymore. Remember when I wrote about finding space? It seems like years ago now because I was still a little happy when Jamie and I found it the first time. I don’t know how Dave knew. I don’t know how he did it, but it wasn’t his room – it was the one filled with space, every corner of it. It was beautiful. I hated him right then because he had no right to do that to me. I can’t make him feel things, but he does it to me all the time.

Now when I think about it, I wonder if it hadn’t been easier to no, I don’t think I can think about that yet. I need to do something else for a while.

 

Back soon, Laura

 

 

I’m back. I think I need something to do or I might go crazy. I don’t know how long I just sat here and watched the fireplace. There’s not even a fire in it, but I watched it anyway. I could almost hear it except I think I was really hearing space.

I just read over what I wrote and I think maybe I don’t want to put down what happened with Dave on paper. Not that I don’t want to tell it to you, it’s more that I don’t think I can describe it at all, not without making the memory less than it is. At the same time I don’t want to forget. I have to write it down exactly like it was or I’ll risk making it less true every time I think about it.

I asked him how he knew, but even though I hated him, I wasn’t angry anymore. It’s hard to be angry in space, especially when you can touch it. I was just shocked that he knew at all. He didn’t really answer that, he made it sound like he’d just guessed. I don’t believe that he did. He had to have known.

“You said either to burn or climb, so then how high up are the stars?” I sort of hated him for that too, for using my own words against me like that. But I just wrote a few pages back that I don’t like it when he doesn’t listen, so I can’t hate him for doing that, either.

“Out of reach”, I said.

“Is that where you want to be?”

I’ve thought about that now, after all that. I think it’s where I think I want to be. And where I think I am. But since I also have to be there, I’m not sure if all that actually means anything. What I want and what I need has never ever matched up. Especially not with who I am.

Dave doesn’t seem to care about who I am, which I don’t understand at all, because I’ve only ever been kind of mean to him. I get why Don and Jamie insist things about me and that’s because I made them think I was a good person when I first met them. I’ve never pretended with Dave. And still he treats me like I’m worth something. I think he’s the only one who actually dares make love to me after I ask him to fuck me.

I told him I am. Out of reach, that is. So he said, “Then we’re already here.” I just stared at him because I didn’t know what to do. And the more I looked at him the weaker I felt. You can’t hate someone who brings you space instead of a little snow when it would have been so much easier to. I hate feeling weak, but I felt a little bit like it was okay, too. It made me want to cry, but I didn’t. There were all these planets and stars and galaxies all around me and he was just watching me in that patient way he has, so I kissed him so I wouldn’t have to see his face anymore. It’s easier like that. I did it so it’d mean less but maybe Dave knew that, too, because he kissed me and touched me like someone who cares about me and loves me. And I didn’t have the energy to fight that. I’m not sure who I’m most angry at for that, me or him.

Here’s what I can’t explain: he let me go. I don’t know how he did it, but he literally let me go. I wasn’t me anymore. I forgot all about Laura Palmer … maybe I became Fiona for a while. It wasn’t important who I was or what I’d done. It felt like I was floating away, like I was outside of my body again, but I still felt how warm his hands were. And safe. I felt that, too.

After I remembered myself again I did cry and I didn’t think I’d ever stop. I cried and cried and he just held me and told me to sleep, so I did, even though I can’t remember actually calming down. When I woke up he was still there.

I kind of want to cry again, just after writing that down. I haven’t been to the bar again since because I’m not sure I can look at him without breaking down.

I wanted to write something about what it means and how I feel, but I don’t think I can. This is too much for me. I’ll just say that I feel different, and hopefully it isn’t all bad.

 

Laura

 

Dear Diary,

I have always tried to be honest with you since I can’t be honest anywhere else. Except that’s not true. It’s because I’m too scared to tell the truth where people can hear or see.

I told Don I loved him yesterday. It figures that he’s missing now, doesn’t it? I’m so tired of everything I care about being taken from me. He’ll be back but I can hate his absence as much as I want until he is.

I’m trying to remember what it was like to not care. I remember the emptiness and the strength and the way people backed away from me because they were scared, but not the distance. People care about me here. I care about them too and I can’t even hate it anymore. I’m sure Don would be proud if he knew, but there’s a reason you can be locked away. I don’t know how much I want people to believe that I’m different.

But I am. I can’t help it. Laura Palmer was a fucked-up drug addict whore who hurt people because she liked it. Laura hurts people because she’s too scared not to. I’m still fucked-up and cruel and weak, but I’m not the same person I was in Twin Peaks. That town and everything there feels more and more like a dream than a memory. Maybe a ghost house is where I’ve been all my life, I just never opened my eyes.

Don loves me. Dave loves me. I think Jamie loves me, and that Jimmy and Alex might if I let them. I don’t see the point in fighting that anymore. I don’t want to pretend they don’t mean anything to me any longer. The thing is that I don’t know if someone like me can love them the way they deserve to be loved, but if I make sure Laura Palmer doesn’t come back, maybe I can try to be someone who can.

More later, Laura