Lucius Bod | Rogue Diary

Every human being can end suffering completely. I have not found the right way to end mine, but the thought torments me so much, I write short stories in a journal  instead. 

Perhaps I ceased to believe in a future and my faith was so drained that now objects lie about me at the scene where I raged yesterday. Something went wrong inside my consciousness, something cataclysmic occurred between yesterday and this morning. All I have left is a lifelong guilt. 

You misunderstood how a call from an old acquaintance ended up in our phone's answering service. I did not invite him into my sex life, lover. We've been cut off from others during our honeymoon, so I was lonely, and engaged small talk with the first acquaintance I came across.

Not even sex is enough to make the laptop sing today. Cursed, I am! Not even rabidly vivid memories of making love to each other offer a respite from what my life has become. I used to work for the money. I used to do it for love. Now, no more. We shall meet again if there is an afterlife.

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The morning after my divorce from Karlie I found myself swimming in a sea of vodka and pity. I sank to the bottom. I swam big waves looking for absolution. Crystal light above compelled me to gasp for air. That didn't happen until I reached the rocks. I saw you covered in flowers. You said they were all for me.

Every day I took a flower from your body and you chipped away my corals, then gently washed the salt off my skin before you kissed me. I saw the silver cross on your chest and you found my gold Star of David. One year later, stripped of everything that kept us apart we became children again and we played by the sea, but I would never again have vodka for breakfast.