To Katherine Anne Porter

If SHE Was My Girlfriend

Loneliness, your old and faithful friend, is coming for
another visit. You open your door and let him in, watching
him through narrowed eyes while he takes of his coat and
makes himself comfortable. You open your mind and let him
in, watching through fearful eyes while he is taking over
all those places you thought you made free. Fear is creeping
over while you feel his cold, long fingers circling your
soul, little by little strengthening their hold.
BREAK THROUGH! BREAK THROUGH! Fight it, submit to it, let it
take over. Push it away, give yourself. Don't give up.
Fight! Let it carry you, follow it, crash it, struggle.
BREAK THROUGH! BREAK THROUGH!

You walk the street. It is empty end quiet. There is a good
reason to believe that it is dark. Is it?  You cannot tell
for sure. There is no way to be certain. Suddenly you have a
strange feeling that this street has no end. You will just
go on and on, and it will stretch on and on in front of you.
Turning back will not help, of course.
You and the rain. And the hole in your stomach. Since this
morning. When you woke up and the bed was empty, like every
day, since dream-creatures always leave before
human-creatures wake up. But this morning your bed was a
different-empty. It was empty with such a heavy finality
that made you certain she left for good this time. Her
clothes were not in the closet, which was not conclusive
since she tends to do that sometimes. Dream-creatures often
do not have any clothes other than the ones they wear. But
still.
When you went to the bathroom you discovered the hole. It
was ping-pong-ball-size, just in the middle of your stomach.
So you knew - she would not come back this time. Then the
hole began to grow. First it was ping-pong-ball-size, then
tennis-ball-size, then football-size.
And now it's raining. You were brought-up to know that it is
cold when it's raining. In Thailand it can rain when it's
hot. But you are not in Thailand, you are in... A rush of
fear runs up your spine, exploding in your brain. But then
you have this strange idea that not knowing where you are
will make things easier for you. Like not knowing if it's
cold. Like not knowing if it's night. Not knowing calms you.
It is only this hole that disturbs you. It never stops
growing. First it was tennis-ball-size, then football-size,
then pillar-size. You try to figure out whether you will
finally disappear, or explode. Should you explode, will you
be colder? Should you melt into the sidewalk cracks, will
they be yours then? You never owned anything significant
before, and you find the idea comforting. Owning a sidewalk
crack can be nice. Sometimes an ant will visit, sometimes a
small spider. You could have laughed now, if it wasn't for
the hole. First it was football-size, then pillar-size, then
small-screen-television-size, like when they show the nice
girl on MTV, the one with a Norwegian name you always
forget. Norway can be a nice place to go, winter, blondes,
salmons and all. Maybe they even have hole-type people. It
is so faraway, you cannot tell. But you cannot go there if
you explode into the sidewalk cracks. How big will the hole
be before it can be seen?
But first she left. You woke up and she was gone and took
her name with her so now you cannot remember it, but in a
way it might be better. She took many other memories as
well, and now there is emptiness in your mind and emptiness
in your stomach which is growing with every step you take.
You stop. It keeps growing. You walk backwards. Still
growing. What was her name? First it was pillar-size, than
small-screen-television-size, then big-gray-mean-doll-size,
like that bear your parents bought you in Italy when you
were five. In Italy it's hot and there is not much rain and
certainly not hole-type people, perhaps not even
dream-creatures. You would have gone there, had you known
the way. The bear was almost your size and you feared it and
it was hollow in the inside just like you are now and then
it disappeared.
Small parts of your inside start falling into this
emptiness, like a disintegrating building. In your stomach
and in your mind, like some crazy competition, a race
towards nothingness. You sit on the wet sidewalk, watching
fixedly at this competition inside you, checking the cracks
around. What will it be like when people walk over? What if
you wake up?