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Journal: Hathian – Vodou
(blah blah the usual – hidden and crap)
It’s been four days. I need to get out of this apartment…out of this building.
No, not remembering that. Not at all. SO tired of crying. My eyes feel like little stones in my head.
I ordered contractors to rip up the wood flooring in the warehouse. Spent three hours the other day, trying to scrub out the bloodstain. It won’t come up. Who needs wood floors in a warehouse anyway? Concrete works. Not like we’re going to be having any parties in there anytime soon.
Going to talk to them about gutting his office too. I can’t go in there. I’ve stared at the door several times. I swear I can smell his aftershave and cigars without even opening it.
I did go into the bedroom though. Stripped the linens. It looks so…white. I know white is for funerals at home…but…I can’t do white. I can’t wear white right now. I don’t know if I ever will again. I keep seeing it go red…
Black feels like darkness and shadows to me, and that’s what I feel like I’ve wrapped around myself. Shadows of what was…what could have been…what will never be.
At least now…I don’t feel anything.