Chelsea Anne Fawcett
Bio
Stories (2/0)
THRIVING
I wake up, 2am, a panic. The rain is falling too hard outside my window. And the wind. The wind! It's a decision no one ever told me I’d have to make, not really. If I go out there in this storm, is this a storm? This is Southern California after all. But it's fucking freezing. And it's raining too hard. My imagination flashes violently, bursts of worst case scenarios break like waves around me. It is raining so much harder than it has in...I can't remember when. I can't go outside. I can't afford to get sick, not now, not when the ICU’s are still overflowing. When there is another strain of the deadly virus that has been taking my neighbors lives one by one for over a year now. It's mutated? IT'S MUTATED. Okay. I try to count my breaths and then remember that never works. Always leaves me more panicked. Rue from Euphoria was just autistic. That was literally it. Sometimes focusing on one of my special interests helps. I inhale a long sigh of a breath. How long has it been raining now? For hours. Usually I would be elated at rain like this. But things haven’t been like they usually were, and probably never will be again. I am a careless, stupid, fucking cunt. Oh there that goes again, the blaming. It's taken me months but at this point I can finally trace it back to somewhere. Three nights ago I had a dream that a gym teacher who was supposed to be my mother was hurling insult after insult at me, sneering at my pain. When I woke up I understood what my brain was trying to telegraph to me. But women are supposed to be good… the problem is just that we don't empower them. It's POURING now. Thundering on the roof. Seriously? This is a farce, surely. When does it ever rain like this in Southern California?! It's like every drop of the drought we’ve been in for the past….I don't know how long, it started before I got here, is being released from the sky at once. Like someone who withheld their love from you for years suddenly remembers every birthday, notices every single thing you like about yourself and tells you all the things you have been waiting to hear. From an ecological standpoint this can not be good. Dumping 2 years of rain onto barren soil is just a recipe for a mudslide. Sometimes things that look good, aren’t. There is such a thing as too much. The rain and the wind seems to be responding to my consideration of going outside. Of course, I know better. But just in case I was still thinking about it...a little flood channel opens at the bottom of my steps. At least my roof isn’t leaking. Yet. When the painters left this past week I noticed one of the support beams on the roof disintegrated when paint was applied to it. It's hollow but at least it's a nice shade of brown. The popcorn plaster has been bulging on my ceiling since before I moved in but surely that's just a cosmetic thing. I should turn on the heater. It really is freezing.
By Chelsea Anne Fawcett3 years ago in Humans