black chevrolet

The chair is comfortable, the ceiling filled with demons, and the feeling of peace remains like a buffer between me and them, the peace that covers a multitude of sins. Peace, like a down blanket over the room, is receding slowly out the window. It's following her, I'm sure it's following her back home. I've been graced with this comfort for one day, unasked, uninvited, like a wraith. And now that comfort is gone again, as if it never existed - but it has left me settled, happy again and I smile at the demons. Kill me now, please, while I'm happy.

I could never figure this out: the times in my life when I have been really alone, but unwilling to recognize the fact, there is one person who shows up from nowhere to take the sting away like a healing salve. This is the second time this has happened. I've always been angry with this person. I don't want to be healed. Pain is weakness leaving the soul, so don't heal me. But she comes with sudden comfort and I become soft and pain is not useful anymore but something that is ugly and hurts. She can't make it go away, but she makes it not hurt.

And then I can't get away from her, everywhere I go I keep running into her, like a guardian angel. She lives in the hallways of my daily life. This is the really weird part. I never seek her out but I can't get away from her as long as she chooses to stay. Perhaps she IS my guardian angel. Poor guardian angel. I'm so sorry you have me for a job.

And this guardian angel is of such caliber that when she does leave, she leaves comfort behind for hours. And I am happy until enough time passes and things happen that I forget and assume again the accustomed cold burden and weakness and the demons come back to take up their posts and life is the same as always.