a victoria p


07 November 2007

Excerpts that are more so reminders for myself.

The Bubble or Blown Glass or... Who fucking knows.

I didn’t think about the bubble and how warm it had always made me feel for a whole day, which is sincere and impressive because I think about the bubble most every day. I spent a day in shock, my first full day away from the bubble.

I could hear the echo over the phone almost immediately. You were calling me from the bubble. You sounded ill but were still adamant to speak. I love that about you. You are so genuinely interested in my little, lame Brooklyn life. My general, day-to-day, well-being. You’d probably even scold me for calling it “lame” just there. You are so sweet. You’re the best kind of sweet. You are so balanced and honest and understanding.


I guess I should speak of my trip I took outside of the bubble. My head just recently stopped spinning from it. It was a three-day trip.

On the first day, the glass around me broke. It broke so abruptly I hardly saw it coming, if at all. I didn't know it had even broke until it was surronding my feet and I was caught trying to get out without cutting myself. I was as drunk as a fish out of water. I was slapping around on the ground so hard and fast. It was hard for me to breath; my heart was pounding so loud in my ears that it was all I could hear amongst the music we had been choosing. I realized while I was standing in front of the jukebox that I could potentially drown in the crisp air if I didn’t get back into the bubble fast enough. But, it was also there I made the conscious decision to see if I could do without the bubble. That kiss gave me a breath of life and although I was scared, I chose to take it. And so, I took the kiss and left the broken bubble and didn’t think about it again until day three.

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