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July 12, 2023:
Sherpa Mike dropped us off at the trail, but last second, Voodoo and I decided to hitch to Mount Washington. I didn’t even care, figured I would come hike it later if I felt so inspired. I probably would because it didn’t feel like it would feel as satisfying just driving up to the summit.
We got a ride and I looked up at the sky while on the road, longing so much to be alone, but feeling trapped beyond my understanding. How did I get here? Why did he seem so inescapable? Why did it seem as if I couldn’t just take these two little legs of mine and just walk away?
After we got dropped off at the base of the mountain, we hitched a ride up Mount Washington and then got a hitch down nearly immediately. I didn’t like the vibe up there—so many things nowadays felt as if they were just turning into another tourist trap. The area was full of hundreds of people. At one point, I went to go find a quiet spot to sit and write. A couple of minutes later, a blaring fire alarm went off right above my head.
I felt very edgy today and it seemed my moment to moment perception was reflecting that. When we made it back down, I laid my body in the grass and took a nap. Pink was on his way to pick us up in a rental car since him and Prancer were passing through and going all the way up to Maine. They planned to hike SOBO from Katahdin, so we decided to join them on a portion of the trip.
Voodoo splurged on a room for all of us, and I had to admit, it was probably my most favorite room I had ever been in. It was surrounded by wood, covered in carpet and surrounded by soft lighting—next level cozy. I closed my eyes and wondered to myself how lovely it would feel to experience such coziness all of the time. Yet in the moment, there was immense difficulty in appreciating the space for I was with Voodoo and it seemed like, simply put, I didn’t feel at home. I hadn’t felt at home for quite some time now.
It was really nice reuniting with Pink, too, but even he seemed unlike himself. I watched the way Prancer treated him which seemed to bring about sadness in me. She would go off and try to get attention from other dudes, blatantly getting drunk and making moves on them while Pink was right there. Although she was going through some heavy stuff in her life at that moment, it was still challenging to watch Pink put up with it. And although he said he didn’t care and that it didn’t bother him, his eyes said otherwise. They appeared dull, just like mine.
Upon going to bed, we listened to Prancer try to have sex with Pink as he was telling her to chill out and go to bed multiple times. That lasted for a good half an hour until she eventually ran out of energy trying to persuade him. Right when they fell asleep, Voodoo fingered me to an orgasm and then we fucked on the bed, but it was too loud, so we moved to the floor.
Is this love? I thought to myself as I was getting rug burn on my back.
If this isn’t love, how do I so easily keep mistaking it for that? I mean, there’s passion in his eyes… he’s holding me tight, kissing me as if it will be our last time, whispering sweet nothings… but then why does my heart hurt so much? Why does everything feel so empty?
After he came, he moved his body away from me—distance and disconnection—now something I had grown used to in him. My body laid there in a gentle numbness, a ringing vibration of the white noise that was my pain. I reminisced of when I was a little girl, laying on the carpeted floor in my parents guest bedroom, listening to AQUA on my CD player and making beaded bracelets in near dark lighting. I remembered, in my innocence, being highly in tune to the “now” and being fully replenished and sustained by my own sustenance. For I knew that the life force energy I felt within came from God and I was the vessel that it moved through.