LW&W (12.12.04)
Roger has had his thing out for at least an hour now. Lion Witch & Wardrobe is over. I don't even remember seeing the ending or anything. I do remember seeing the credit parts at the end, then commercials that were mostly previews for other shows. Those are the main kind of commercials they have between shows, when one is ending and before another one is starting. I don't know why. It is the time for station commercials, I guess. Now something else is on, but I really can't tell very good what it is. It is not a show I am used to watching. A cop or detective show with old people who look pretty boring. Except I do like Rockford; he is cool. But this is not Rockford and I can't pay attention to anything, anyway.
Roger keeps trying to get me to drink more of this drink stuff. It is my second one. I tried to not drink the other one, or at least go slow, because I can tell there's something in it. It is for sure not a kid drink, and he even admitted that. It is like he is proud of it. I don't get how he thinks I will think it's really neat to be able to drink this crap with him or something. Everything he keeps doing tonight, he is acting like it's some big treat for me or something, like he is really doing me a favor. Yeah, like I have been dying for a chance to look at his sickening nakedness all my life. Like it is really a thing I always wish some adult would do with me, to play Gin Rummy with a deck of cards that have gross naked people doing gross things to each other on them. Like, I don't understand how he thinks this is fun for me. I really don't. I am so confused and it is freaking me out. I keep trying to think of what I am doing to make him want to do this stuff, but I can't figure it out. I really don't think I am acting like this is fun. I mean, I am not being rude or anything, but I don't think I am acting like I want it to keep going. I am trying really hard to sort of let him know that really, I'd rather not be doing this stuff. But it is not working. He is acting like I am having so much fun and he is my buddy and best friend and we really have a party going on here. What is going wrong? What do I do that I don't know about that makes people so confused about what I am wanting to do or how I think or what I mean? Because it has to be me not getting something. My stomach hurts so bad and please God, don't go away. Please hang around and give me some help right now. Help me figure out how to get this to end, God. Please. I think I'm gonna throw up or disappear. I wish I would disappear. God I need this to end. Please let this end. Please let me wake up and be home in bed.
"You gonna take your turn?" Roger is looking at me. His eyes look like my dad's did when we were dancing at that fancy place with the saxaphone band in Texas when I visited him over the summer. Like too much lazy happiness. Stupid, in a way--not to be mean. But it is a look where you worry about them tripping or something, and falling down stairs. With my dad, it made me nervous because I didn't know if I could hold him up if he fell or something. Not that Roger is going to fall, since he is already laying down. He is on his side, laying on his right side, on the floor in front of the couch. Where I am on the couch. I haven't really moved in the last hour, so I am still laying on my side on the couch, but it is my left side so I could face the TV which is now on another planet across the room. And where none of my privates are showing at all. (How can he not feel it? He must, I know that; he must. But then how could he be laying there in front of me? How can it be out and showing? Why is he thinking I want to look at all these pictures? Am I really who I think I am? I think I am eleven years old; I am only a kid, really, and why would I want to see this stuff? But he thinks I do, and so he is seeing something different. Am I doing something that is the reason he is showing his privates? Does he think I am wanting him to do that, too? What is wrong with me?)
My ankles, they are showing, though. Not exactly my ankles, but more like the bottom part of my calves, and it is driving me crazy and I wish they weren't showing. I wish that skin was not showing. But I can't cover it up without being very obvious about it, and I think Roger would probably say something then and I just want everything to go away and end. But I wish really, really, really, really bad that the covers, this black and red afghan of Sue's, was all the way down to my feet. But it ends at the middle of my calves, and then there is the skin, and then my purple fuzzy foots on my feet below that. I don't want to look at my legs, but I wonder if they are shaved. I don't even know which is worse, if they are shaved or if they are not. Because since the 6th grade field trip to Greenfield Village where there was a pool, and I told my mom I wasn't going unless I could shave my legs, then I am allowed to usually shave my legs. But I can't remember the last time I did it so I don't know what is going on down there at my legs and I think Roger has been looking. Is there hair, which would be so embarassing and I want to cut my legs off? Or is it shaved, which makes me want to slice myself into tiny pieces because it must be making Roger think I am interested in certain things.
I don't know what is going on to take my turn. I keep forgetting what game we are even playing. It is very, very, very hard to look at the numbers and suit of the cards, way up and small in the corners, without seeing all the stuff that is going on in the middle. The ladies with their faces in screams, bent over, and the men with "o" faces sticking horrible things into the ladies. And there are cards with way more than just a man and a lady, too. Sick things. I can't remember how to play. What are we playing? What is my turn? There is a pile of cards on the floor between me and Roger. It must be the discard pile. We must be playing Gin Rummy, because it is the only game I really know how to play very good. My grandma taught me. She taught me Solitaire and Scrabble and Probe, too. She would not think these cards are normal. Roger keeps saying how normal these cards are, how good it feels to do these things in the pictures. I lay down a card and pick up another. I hope this is enough to make my turn done.
Roger keeps trying to get me to drink more of this drink stuff. It is my second one. I tried to not drink the other one, or at least go slow, because I can tell there's something in it. It is for sure not a kid drink, and he even admitted that. It is like he is proud of it. I don't get how he thinks I will think it's really neat to be able to drink this crap with him or something. Everything he keeps doing tonight, he is acting like it's some big treat for me or something, like he is really doing me a favor. Yeah, like I have been dying for a chance to look at his sickening nakedness all my life. Like it is really a thing I always wish some adult would do with me, to play Gin Rummy with a deck of cards that have gross naked people doing gross things to each other on them. Like, I don't understand how he thinks this is fun for me. I really don't. I am so confused and it is freaking me out. I keep trying to think of what I am doing to make him want to do this stuff, but I can't figure it out. I really don't think I am acting like this is fun. I mean, I am not being rude or anything, but I don't think I am acting like I want it to keep going. I am trying really hard to sort of let him know that really, I'd rather not be doing this stuff. But it is not working. He is acting like I am having so much fun and he is my buddy and best friend and we really have a party going on here. What is going wrong? What do I do that I don't know about that makes people so confused about what I am wanting to do or how I think or what I mean? Because it has to be me not getting something. My stomach hurts so bad and please God, don't go away. Please hang around and give me some help right now. Help me figure out how to get this to end, God. Please. I think I'm gonna throw up or disappear. I wish I would disappear. God I need this to end. Please let this end. Please let me wake up and be home in bed.
"You gonna take your turn?" Roger is looking at me. His eyes look like my dad's did when we were dancing at that fancy place with the saxaphone band in Texas when I visited him over the summer. Like too much lazy happiness. Stupid, in a way--not to be mean. But it is a look where you worry about them tripping or something, and falling down stairs. With my dad, it made me nervous because I didn't know if I could hold him up if he fell or something. Not that Roger is going to fall, since he is already laying down. He is on his side, laying on his right side, on the floor in front of the couch. Where I am on the couch. I haven't really moved in the last hour, so I am still laying on my side on the couch, but it is my left side so I could face the TV which is now on another planet across the room. And where none of my privates are showing at all. (How can he not feel it? He must, I know that; he must. But then how could he be laying there in front of me? How can it be out and showing? Why is he thinking I want to look at all these pictures? Am I really who I think I am? I think I am eleven years old; I am only a kid, really, and why would I want to see this stuff? But he thinks I do, and so he is seeing something different. Am I doing something that is the reason he is showing his privates? Does he think I am wanting him to do that, too? What is wrong with me?)
My ankles, they are showing, though. Not exactly my ankles, but more like the bottom part of my calves, and it is driving me crazy and I wish they weren't showing. I wish that skin was not showing. But I can't cover it up without being very obvious about it, and I think Roger would probably say something then and I just want everything to go away and end. But I wish really, really, really, really bad that the covers, this black and red afghan of Sue's, was all the way down to my feet. But it ends at the middle of my calves, and then there is the skin, and then my purple fuzzy foots on my feet below that. I don't want to look at my legs, but I wonder if they are shaved. I don't even know which is worse, if they are shaved or if they are not. Because since the 6th grade field trip to Greenfield Village where there was a pool, and I told my mom I wasn't going unless I could shave my legs, then I am allowed to usually shave my legs. But I can't remember the last time I did it so I don't know what is going on down there at my legs and I think Roger has been looking. Is there hair, which would be so embarassing and I want to cut my legs off? Or is it shaved, which makes me want to slice myself into tiny pieces because it must be making Roger think I am interested in certain things.
I don't know what is going on to take my turn. I keep forgetting what game we are even playing. It is very, very, very hard to look at the numbers and suit of the cards, way up and small in the corners, without seeing all the stuff that is going on in the middle. The ladies with their faces in screams, bent over, and the men with "o" faces sticking horrible things into the ladies. And there are cards with way more than just a man and a lady, too. Sick things. I can't remember how to play. What are we playing? What is my turn? There is a pile of cards on the floor between me and Roger. It must be the discard pile. We must be playing Gin Rummy, because it is the only game I really know how to play very good. My grandma taught me. She taught me Solitaire and Scrabble and Probe, too. She would not think these cards are normal. Roger keeps saying how normal these cards are, how good it feels to do these things in the pictures. I lay down a card and pick up another. I hope this is enough to make my turn done.
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