Diary
Page Five
I went to the doctor today. My boss demanded that I do so, because of my hand. Dr. Michaels, remember him? He looked over my stringy hand. He put some medication on it, and to be honest, it looked like yellow cum.
Baby batter, as you and Frank Iero would say.
Anyway, it didn’t cure my hand, but it made it feel better, and now I have to wear gloves to work, because I can’t afford to miss a day. My hand doesn’t hurt, it just stings, and the pain seems to subside when I write. I think my nerves, or my mind, is signaling all the hate I have for you into pleasure. A euphoria takes over.
I thought a lot about you today. In the doctor’s office.
I thought about the day Roxy was born, how happy you seemed. That little glimmer you had when you saw her for the first time. The way you almost passed out because they put an IV in my arm. The way you held her for the first time and spelt her name to the nurse who was filling out her birth certificate.
“R-O-X-A-N-N-E, Roxanne,” you had told the nurse. You held Roxy the entire time, “Elena, E-L-E-N-A. Lee.”
“That’s a nice name,” Someone had mentioned. I was too doped up on pain killers to know who.
Your parents came, as well as my father, and even your grandparents. Just to see their namesake. At times your grandmother would look at me and give me a weird stare, as if she knew. As if she knew that our marriage wouldn’t last. We were young and completely, utterly, in love and captivated with one another. I wasn’t dumb, I was in love. You weren't dumb, you were reckless, selfish, and mostly likely in love too.
After the birth, I wondered, a lot, if you did love me. I wondered if having a child changed things…and they do.
We weren’t happy anymore. We became parents, we had harder responsibilities, we had to work even harder. You doodled and got a boring office job, but quit because it wasn't “your heart”. I picked up the slack as you continued to doodle. I worked at burger joints. I came home smelling like grease. The smell radiated from my hair, and that pushed you farther away.
When did I start to lose less appeal? When did I become unattractive?
You said I looked beautiful, even covered in dirt and blood.
Baby batter, as you and Frank Iero would say.
Anyway, it didn’t cure my hand, but it made it feel better, and now I have to wear gloves to work, because I can’t afford to miss a day. My hand doesn’t hurt, it just stings, and the pain seems to subside when I write. I think my nerves, or my mind, is signaling all the hate I have for you into pleasure. A euphoria takes over.
I thought a lot about you today. In the doctor’s office.
I thought about the day Roxy was born, how happy you seemed. That little glimmer you had when you saw her for the first time. The way you almost passed out because they put an IV in my arm. The way you held her for the first time and spelt her name to the nurse who was filling out her birth certificate.
“R-O-X-A-N-N-E, Roxanne,” you had told the nurse. You held Roxy the entire time, “Elena, E-L-E-N-A. Lee.”
“That’s a nice name,” Someone had mentioned. I was too doped up on pain killers to know who.
Your parents came, as well as my father, and even your grandparents. Just to see their namesake. At times your grandmother would look at me and give me a weird stare, as if she knew. As if she knew that our marriage wouldn’t last. We were young and completely, utterly, in love and captivated with one another. I wasn’t dumb, I was in love. You weren't dumb, you were reckless, selfish, and mostly likely in love too.
After the birth, I wondered, a lot, if you did love me. I wondered if having a child changed things…and they do.
We weren’t happy anymore. We became parents, we had harder responsibilities, we had to work even harder. You doodled and got a boring office job, but quit because it wasn't “your heart”. I picked up the slack as you continued to doodle. I worked at burger joints. I came home smelling like grease. The smell radiated from my hair, and that pushed you farther away.
When did I start to lose less appeal? When did I become unattractive?
You said I looked beautiful, even covered in dirt and blood.