pussycat pussycat where have you been?

I've been busy.

Last week was a blur of avoiding certain chicks, entertaining others, keeping an eye on Paris fashion week, trying to make it to work on time, and celebrating Ruth's 26th birthday.

And her.

I left her a message on her phone. I figured out the number, and called it with my own, and left a message. Yeah, I could have called someone in the history....but I didn't have the energy to try and figure out the appropriate person to contact, and frankly, if someone had my phone, I wouldn't want them calling folks willy nilly. So now it is her move. Hopefully she is checking the messages.

Her name is Fiona.

And now to a dark place.

There has also been a pause here. Somehow I can barely make my fingers move across the keys. I have reached an absolute standstill, in life, in general.

Sometimes when I look in the mirror I don't even recognize myself. I know its me because...well obviously... but it scares me when i start to look into my eyes. I mean really look into my eyes. Where it goes beyond the color. Beyond the deep sea of green; a frightening ocean with rip tides and white foamy caps and a terribly heavy pull. Looking into the pupils my eyes become a separate entity, a black hellish depth that I don't know.

Perhaps it is better not to look beneath the surface.

And then I start to think: not who am I, because how cliche do you really want me to be? And not what am I doing here, because that's almost more wretched.
What I start to think is: how endless is the black and how deep is the green and will it ever not hurt and do I have any control?

And then I swim to the top, break free of the dredges of cold water. I allow myself to be bathed in the warmth of friends, alcohol, lovers, accidents, drama, laughter, rain, and wonder.

I have survived another week. That is where this pussycat has been.

Always,

Louise