Worshipful Masturbator
Två
The following day, I didn't leave my room. I didn't even eat anything. My brother came in my room and sat on my bed at about 17 in the afternoon, when he got home from work. I was asleep at this time.
"Abbe, get up," he said, nudging me in the back.
"What?" I said, rolling over to face him.
"Have you not left the bed all day?" he said.
"So what if I haven't?"
"Was the party really that bad?" he said.
Why did he think it was about the party? Always, they think it is about these small little things that happen, which are really just little reminders of how you feel deep inside all of the time. I just wanted him to leave me alone and not ask me about such things. My family did not understand my feelings and it was excruciating to attempt to explain.
"No, Rig. I was just tired," I told him. "It's too hot here to go outside."
"I brought home some food for us to eat. Come on."
--
It was tacos. They were okay, but I didn't particularly want to eat them again in the future. Rig told me that I could not stay with him if I only stayed in bed all day. He said that I did not have to get a job straight away, but that I had to at least leave the house almost every day. He told me to use either his bike or the bus, because he would use his car all day for work and I did not have a license anyway.
I felt so trapped. I thought I might kill myself once again that night. I did not even have a visa to be living in America, so how would I get a job? How long was I going to stay there? It was alright at first, but I was beginning to dream of home as if it were a heaven. There were odd things about home which seemed so comforting and wonderful, that I never would have thought of in such a light if I were really there.
I did not kill myself that night, but I split my forearms open with a pair of scissors and the blood spilled onto my sheets. I could not be stuck homeless in Texas and I was sure my parents or Rig would not buy me plane tickets home. I would at least rather be homeless in Sweden than in Texas. I fantasized about killing myself near the lake in my backyard. There was a stone strip above the lake which you could lay on and look at the water and I thought it seemed good to die there.
The following day, I rode the bike into town near 13 o'clock. There was nothing but very large supermarkets for a while, but once I got further there were some smaller stores. There was one bookstore, and Rig gave me some money, so I figured I could spend it there.
There were many books in there which I had never heard of but found very fascinating. The store itself interested me. The lights were dim and the wooden bookcases dark brown. It was not bright like many stores were, but it was still light enough so that I could read. I found many philosophy books and books on music and history, and after nearly an hour of browsing, I finally sat down to look through them.
I had seen no one since going into the store. It was very quiet except for some soft classical music playing from some speakers. It was not my favorite kind of music, but I did not mind because the whole atmosphere was nice. I started first with a book about Norse mythology. I knew a lot about this subject already, but I just wanted to read it to remind me of home.
I turned to the page which discussed Idun first. Of course I liked Loki, Freya, and Odin, but Idun was my favorite. She represented sweetness and innocence, and she maintained the mind of a child. I really admired her for this. Perhaps I liked her so much because of the way that my mother told me about her when I was small. She told me that no matter how many years Idun lived, and no matter how many bad things she saw, she was still pure and trusting. She never withered or gave up on her imagination.
I was lost in thoughts of my mother and childhood when I heard footsteps approaching. It was an old, short man with rough skin and a large belly, and he was walking towards me slowly.
"Have you found everything alright, son?"
He had a thick Texas accent, but he did not look too Texan.
"Yes," he did not leave me alone, so I added, "I found a lot of interesting books."
"Oh yeah? What are you reading?"
I picked up the book to show him.
"Just something about Nordic myths."
He came a bit closer.
"Are you from Norway?"
"No, I'm from Sweden. We believed in the gods as well."
"I see. Well, let me know if you need anything."
I just nodded and went back to my reading. I assumed that this man owned the bookstore, and I found him quite interesting because of that. Maybe it's just because everyone else in Texas was so boring in comparison.
After hours of going through the books, I decided to buy the first one I had been reading. It was comforting to me. I know that is childish, but it must be better to be childish than to be suicidal.
I put the book on the counter for the man, and he wrote down the price of it by hand. I had never seen someone operate a store without a cash register before. It was strange, but I liked it. This store made me feel like I was in a different time. I liked it very much.
"That will be $12.58."
I paid him with Rig's money.
"Thank you," he said, and I said it as well.
--
I rode the bike home as the sun went down. I felt better, just from going to the store. I almost did not want to see Rig so that I would not have to explain it to him. He would probably think that if something as stupid as a store would make me feel better then I must not really have a problem. I tried not to think about it because it looked so weird outside. The sky was dark pink, and the blue of night was colliding with it. There were cacti and dead trees black against the sky. I had never seen something like this before.
Finally, I reached home and Rig was not there yet. I went to my bedroom and laid there in the dark for a moment. I could feel my heart beating and waves of warmth and sweat rolling through me. I tried to think of what I should do. I felt better, but still I knew I had to do something about my condition. I could not rot any longer.
I pulled my notebook and pen out of my bag of belongings and began writing there in the dark. I just put down whatever came to mind. There were a lot of things, and most of them were strange sentences that were true to me in some unexplainable way. As I wrote, I became more and more furious with my approach, until the page ripped slightly. Still, I kept on until I couldn’t think anymore, like a deep breath that had finally released all the way.
I shoved the notebook onto the floor and I began crying. I was really sobbing. It was deep in my chest, and then I felt it more and more in my stomach. I covered my eyes with my hands and I cried so deeply that I could not breathe and was gasping for air. I felt so ashamed of myself, and I just wanted to be clean.
I went to the bathroom and stripped myself naked, turned the shower in and stepped inside. I let the cold water run down my scalp and the back of my neck, and I felt a bit cleaner. All the memories faded, as the feeling of goosebumps took over my body instead.
--
Rig got home after I got out of the shower, and he had gone to the grocery store. We brought in the groceries and put them away together, and he told me about his day at work. He told me that a pretty girl had agreed to go on a date with him that weekend and I felt a sting of jealousy, but I told him it was great. He had gotten cans of beer, so I drank one.
"I got some steak to have for dinner tonight. And green beans, and potatoes. Is that okay?" he asked me.
I said yes.
"So what did you do today?"
"Oh, I went to a bookstore. I stayed there for a long time, and I got a book on Norse mythology," I told him.
"That's good," he said absentmindedly, "Did you look for a job?"
"Yes," I lied, "I applied for a position at the pizza place."
He turned from the stove where he was getting the steak ready to smile at me.
"That's great, Abbe," he said.
I nodded, and went outside to have a cigarette. The warm night air felt strange on my long wet hair. I ended up smoking several cigarettes since I didn't want to see Rig again after I lied to him. But eventually, I went in and we ate dinner and watched television.
"Abbe, get up," he said, nudging me in the back.
"What?" I said, rolling over to face him.
"Have you not left the bed all day?" he said.
"So what if I haven't?"
"Was the party really that bad?" he said.
Why did he think it was about the party? Always, they think it is about these small little things that happen, which are really just little reminders of how you feel deep inside all of the time. I just wanted him to leave me alone and not ask me about such things. My family did not understand my feelings and it was excruciating to attempt to explain.
"No, Rig. I was just tired," I told him. "It's too hot here to go outside."
"I brought home some food for us to eat. Come on."
--
It was tacos. They were okay, but I didn't particularly want to eat them again in the future. Rig told me that I could not stay with him if I only stayed in bed all day. He said that I did not have to get a job straight away, but that I had to at least leave the house almost every day. He told me to use either his bike or the bus, because he would use his car all day for work and I did not have a license anyway.
I felt so trapped. I thought I might kill myself once again that night. I did not even have a visa to be living in America, so how would I get a job? How long was I going to stay there? It was alright at first, but I was beginning to dream of home as if it were a heaven. There were odd things about home which seemed so comforting and wonderful, that I never would have thought of in such a light if I were really there.
I did not kill myself that night, but I split my forearms open with a pair of scissors and the blood spilled onto my sheets. I could not be stuck homeless in Texas and I was sure my parents or Rig would not buy me plane tickets home. I would at least rather be homeless in Sweden than in Texas. I fantasized about killing myself near the lake in my backyard. There was a stone strip above the lake which you could lay on and look at the water and I thought it seemed good to die there.
The following day, I rode the bike into town near 13 o'clock. There was nothing but very large supermarkets for a while, but once I got further there were some smaller stores. There was one bookstore, and Rig gave me some money, so I figured I could spend it there.
There were many books in there which I had never heard of but found very fascinating. The store itself interested me. The lights were dim and the wooden bookcases dark brown. It was not bright like many stores were, but it was still light enough so that I could read. I found many philosophy books and books on music and history, and after nearly an hour of browsing, I finally sat down to look through them.
I had seen no one since going into the store. It was very quiet except for some soft classical music playing from some speakers. It was not my favorite kind of music, but I did not mind because the whole atmosphere was nice. I started first with a book about Norse mythology. I knew a lot about this subject already, but I just wanted to read it to remind me of home.
I turned to the page which discussed Idun first. Of course I liked Loki, Freya, and Odin, but Idun was my favorite. She represented sweetness and innocence, and she maintained the mind of a child. I really admired her for this. Perhaps I liked her so much because of the way that my mother told me about her when I was small. She told me that no matter how many years Idun lived, and no matter how many bad things she saw, she was still pure and trusting. She never withered or gave up on her imagination.
I was lost in thoughts of my mother and childhood when I heard footsteps approaching. It was an old, short man with rough skin and a large belly, and he was walking towards me slowly.
"Have you found everything alright, son?"
He had a thick Texas accent, but he did not look too Texan.
"Yes," he did not leave me alone, so I added, "I found a lot of interesting books."
"Oh yeah? What are you reading?"
I picked up the book to show him.
"Just something about Nordic myths."
He came a bit closer.
"Are you from Norway?"
"No, I'm from Sweden. We believed in the gods as well."
"I see. Well, let me know if you need anything."
I just nodded and went back to my reading. I assumed that this man owned the bookstore, and I found him quite interesting because of that. Maybe it's just because everyone else in Texas was so boring in comparison.
After hours of going through the books, I decided to buy the first one I had been reading. It was comforting to me. I know that is childish, but it must be better to be childish than to be suicidal.
I put the book on the counter for the man, and he wrote down the price of it by hand. I had never seen someone operate a store without a cash register before. It was strange, but I liked it. This store made me feel like I was in a different time. I liked it very much.
"That will be $12.58."
I paid him with Rig's money.
"Thank you," he said, and I said it as well.
--
I rode the bike home as the sun went down. I felt better, just from going to the store. I almost did not want to see Rig so that I would not have to explain it to him. He would probably think that if something as stupid as a store would make me feel better then I must not really have a problem. I tried not to think about it because it looked so weird outside. The sky was dark pink, and the blue of night was colliding with it. There were cacti and dead trees black against the sky. I had never seen something like this before.
Finally, I reached home and Rig was not there yet. I went to my bedroom and laid there in the dark for a moment. I could feel my heart beating and waves of warmth and sweat rolling through me. I tried to think of what I should do. I felt better, but still I knew I had to do something about my condition. I could not rot any longer.
I pulled my notebook and pen out of my bag of belongings and began writing there in the dark. I just put down whatever came to mind. There were a lot of things, and most of them were strange sentences that were true to me in some unexplainable way. As I wrote, I became more and more furious with my approach, until the page ripped slightly. Still, I kept on until I couldn’t think anymore, like a deep breath that had finally released all the way.
I shoved the notebook onto the floor and I began crying. I was really sobbing. It was deep in my chest, and then I felt it more and more in my stomach. I covered my eyes with my hands and I cried so deeply that I could not breathe and was gasping for air. I felt so ashamed of myself, and I just wanted to be clean.
I went to the bathroom and stripped myself naked, turned the shower in and stepped inside. I let the cold water run down my scalp and the back of my neck, and I felt a bit cleaner. All the memories faded, as the feeling of goosebumps took over my body instead.
--
Rig got home after I got out of the shower, and he had gone to the grocery store. We brought in the groceries and put them away together, and he told me about his day at work. He told me that a pretty girl had agreed to go on a date with him that weekend and I felt a sting of jealousy, but I told him it was great. He had gotten cans of beer, so I drank one.
"I got some steak to have for dinner tonight. And green beans, and potatoes. Is that okay?" he asked me.
I said yes.
"So what did you do today?"
"Oh, I went to a bookstore. I stayed there for a long time, and I got a book on Norse mythology," I told him.
"That's good," he said absentmindedly, "Did you look for a job?"
"Yes," I lied, "I applied for a position at the pizza place."
He turned from the stove where he was getting the steak ready to smile at me.
"That's great, Abbe," he said.
I nodded, and went outside to have a cigarette. The warm night air felt strange on my long wet hair. I ended up smoking several cigarettes since I didn't want to see Rig again after I lied to him. But eventually, I went in and we ate dinner and watched television.