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Confessions From the Past

The Chapter About Locked Doors and Ceiling Fans


When he left you in Chicago, far enough away to pursue his dreams but close enough to still keep you at his finger tips, you used to lay in bed at night and think about just how far away he was. Now, I’m sure you remember this to some extent or another. Laying there each night, staring up at the ceiling fan.

It took you back to another place, only about a mile or two away. Another time, but not so far in the past that it felt like you’d outrun it. Another ceiling fan. Another night awake, but not alone. Following the blades of a rainbow colored fan above, waiting and wishing you could just get some sleep but feeling as though counting those colorful blades was the only way you could get through what was happening in that moment long enough for him to finish so you could get some shut-eye. All the while, those blades spun round and round and round while you lay flat on your back praying it’d be over soon.

Sometimes, after he’d moved away, you’d lay in bed at night thinking about that ceiling fan while staring up at your own and get up and make sure the front door was locked. Then, you’d make sure all the lights were off so no one, not even the neighbors, would know you were home. And then you’d go into your room, lock the bedroom door, and lay back down. And all you could think about was how even 503 miles away from him, in a locked bedroom, in a locked apartment, in a locked building, you could still feel uneasy.

I wish I could say it has gotten easier, but it hasn’t yet. Despite all your requests for him to leave you be, he hasn’t. Two days ago you blocked all means of communication from him and have let your job know that there is slight potential he may show up.

I’m sure someday it will get easier. You are writing about it in music, you are working it out at the gym, you are talking it out in therapy, and you are making every plan necessary to keep your distance from the person and era that tore you apart.

But for right now, its another locked bedroom in a locked apartment that you’re wishing he didn’t have the address for.