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My mother is sweeping the floors
It is  4:10 AM
From the glances I have snuck, she is not crying, not distraught, but in no way normal
It is as if some computer has poorly recreated her from a collection of photographs of her
My mother is handling this whole situation well and I suspect foul play
I am safe now
I am in my home
After standing in a ditch for an hour, my situation has resolved itself incredibly quickly
I take his cue and drive cautiously
My father says "see you at home"
I worry that I will back into the truck and apply the brakes liberally
Will my parents go on their trip to Montreal?
The chain snags and I feel the car being lifted out of the ditch, but I don't know how much gas to give the car
How hard did I hit it
The broken plastic is from the console under the steering wheel
Suddenly the car and the truck are tied together
He says nothing
My father is here now
Lights finally arrive
I can't take credit
The boot is off center, I can't find my balance now
That ruins a long run
I notice my foot has moved
How long have I been here
I have been standing in the same exact spot for half an hour
My brain churns
What now
There is no lying to do
My father knows
I put down the phone, slowly
The words barely make it out of my mouth
I accept fault and give a phony excuse
He is worried
I pick up
Now, my father calls me
He must know
The texts asks where the car is
I look at the bent front end of the civic
My phone buzzes
There is no way I can fix this. I do not want to get back in
My dad is awake
My phone buzzes
There is plastic littered across the two front seats
I hope this is rock bottom
I am in a ditch
The car won't stop, but it screeches

An Admittance Of Fault

Make sure you know who the main character in your story is
Greater people, better protagonists, have failed at the same task
No doubt, I have as well

The Mortality Of Sensuality (Pronouns Wanted)

She had such full thighs. Yossarian had heard it time and time again from half of the squadron, and it was always in a flattering tone, without question. When he was inside them, though, he hadn't a clue where to start. They were too full, even. He guessed to run his hand from her knee up to the back of her thigh, right up to the point where her buttock sprung from the leg into a quivering arch. He guessed right. A moan escaped her lips and she pulled him harder into waist by his hips. It was the first that he had noticed she was touching him. He obliged her gravity, but turned his head to the side as he sunk into her shoulder. She was surprisingly alert to his despondence and, with her finger under his chin, spun his head to face her. Meeting her hurt eyes, he quickly became aware of his mistake and offered a sadistic smile before sliding down her body, splitting her legs first with a subtle dip of his chin, and then further with the backside of his hands. As he looked at her now, she didn't look hurt. Her cheeks had a blush that gave away her embarrassed excitement, and he did his best not to roll his eyes as he dutifully buried himself. He thought of Nurse Duckett as he worked. Lieutenant Scheisskopf's wife wasn't altogether unlike her, but could never keep his attention, even when she had his member at attention. It was when he was with Lieutenant Scheisskopf's wife that he managed to convince himself that he loved Nurse Duckett, and at no other point. With a clear head, he wouldn't hesitate to reject such a notion, even when he was with her. Something about the way Lieutenant Scheisskopf's wife was so easily regaled by his dark musings and satisfied with the same routine, generic sex made Yossarian desperate to feel something more. Yossarian allowed himself a smile as Lieutenant Scheisskopf's wife's shaking hand grasped his hair, confirming that he had unconsciously finished her. As he entered her, he lamented internally. He knew he was going to have to fuck Nurse Duckett again in order to regain interest in Lieutenant Schiesskopf's wife, as had become his system. Catching himself, he indulged himself in an ephemeral moment of lust. Luciana, if she was even out there, was going to have to wait.

Let Me Make It Up To My Conscience

I think this is a good time to write something happy

I love space

I think of it like a national park

Because it's a lot bigger than where you live

And you think: how cool would it be if I explored all of this

But you just can't - and that's not a bad thing - you just can't

So you have a new place to have an adventure every time

It's like a book that you know you like, but never ends

You don't even have to pay attention to the plot it's like the fucking Giving Tree of books

Just let it make you happy and love it

I think probably the same people that go to national parks like space

Maybe not

I do like space though

Space is rad

Brookings, Oregon

She said yes
She said yes, she resented me, yes
And what was I supposed to do, let it go?

We were together for a year and a half
Well, not together, but you know
And I know a year and a half isn't a lot, but it was different
We knew each other
And then just out of left field, she says yes
Yes, I do resent you, she says
And then just stares at me

Why the hell would she say that?
I only asked in the first place to be flattered
So she gives me this stare, like, what are you gonna do you boring self obsessed fucking fuck
I told her exactly what I was gonna do

I said to her
I said to her I'm gonna walk outside and head to that ice cream stand on the corner
Buy some chocolately flavor, they don't have just plain simple chocolate
I tell her, I'm gonna walk back, probably pick up that book that I was in the middle of
I'll start the chapter over since I sorta lost interest and wasn't paying attention
I'm gonna remember that I usually like to drink tea while I'm reading, start a pot of earl grey and get comfortable on the hammock on the porch

And that's when I stabbed her
It was with a pen - no, it mighta been one of those calligraphy markers
I saw it on the counter and she was rolling her eyes and I grabbed it and

Where am I gonna go
I lived in that house
I can't go back
She's under the porch, I didn't know what else to do with her
The first thing I did was cover her head, she wasn't even dead yet
And I thought to myself, what would gacy do
I fucking laughed
I fucking laughed, I still wasn't technically a killer yet

She had those short shallow breaths you get when you think too much about breathing
Like when you can't remember where you put your tongue
Every now and then, a croak
I could tell, it wasn't gonna be much longer
So I put her under the stairs, out back

Go inside to grab something to eat, take a piss
I have no idea
You'd think you forget about all that stuff

I couldn't remember where I stabbed her

So I walk out back and drag her out from under the stairs
I had her rolled up in an old carpet we just had taken out

She's all red
There's a mark or two on her thigh
I take the bag off her head
I see I stabbed her a dozen times in the face
what the fuck
Her eyes are cold but she's looking right at me

Of course she fucking is
I grab the shovel

I can't bring myself to rip into the dirt yet
What the fuck was she looking at
She's dead and still giving me that fucking attitude
I look at the shovel and I just go berserk

I hit her four, five, six times
Different spots, just not the head
I'm scared of the noise that's gonna make it'll make me puke
Finally I stick the shovel in the ground and go at it
I get about 3 feet deep when I hit the foundation

She's not gonna fit
I think of cutting her in hal- I WAS GONNA SLICE HER UP
I loved this chick

It's fine, I fold her over and put her in
Pack in the hole with dirt but there's still a bump where her feet are
I don't even care
I can't stay here
I can't ever go back
I guess I know why she resents me