She slowly awakened, as if from a dream. On a small two-person boat, she was perplexed at how she had gotten there. She saw ahead the accumulation of storm clouds, and the confusion quickly turned into panic. Then, she heard from behind her, “You have woken up”.

   She turned around, almost as if when in a dream, and one is afraid of opening their eyes to the horror their own mind has created. When she was turned fully around, she saw a tribal-looking man, with stripes down both sides of his face with what appeared to be ash and an adhesive liquid of some sort. “You might be a little hungry”, the man said and handed over some bacon and a banana. She still did not speak, for she knew not what she would say if she did. She was hungry, so she ate the bacon and banana, both going down rather quickly as neither is very massive in size. He then handed her a canister which she assumed was water, and she drank from it.
He looked at her with a smirk of inquisitive anticipation.

    “You probably are wondering where you are, and who I am”. She shook her head yes. At this point in time, she was honestly not altogether sure her vocal chords would work, and she did not feel the desire to speak. So, she simply shook her head and at the same time relaxed her tense shoulder muscles.

   “Well, I am not going to tell you who I am. I am simply here to help you. Your guide, if you will.” She then suddenly was struck with the desire to speak. “How did I get here, because I really have no idea. I am actually quite confused and worried at the moment. I just remember lying down after going to eat with my boyfriend. I have been exhausted for days, in the mourning process. My favorite pet, my best friend passed away and I just have not been able to sleep. We buried him this morning, which was an ordeal which took all my energy away for today. We ate, came home and I lied down. I am really quite perplexed right now. Are we even in Ohio anymore?”
   The man just sat, with his almond-shaped eyes looking at her with an intent stare. He really did not look very modern-day, and yet he did not really look like a hobo, either. He was just wearing some men’s length shorts, no shirt. It was a pleasant temperature outside, probably around 70 degrees. She usually was cold in moderate weather, and she felt fine. However, she heard the distant rumble of thunder, which worried her.

   “We aren’t really anywhere. We are in a quiet, still place, a place where you need to be right now.” She was not sure what he meant, and she was becoming a bit irritated with this man’s vague way of handing her situation.

   “Well, I would really like to get back home. If you could take me somewhere where I could do that, it would be greatly appreciated. I’m sure my boyfriend is really worried about me. Does he know where I am, do you know?”

   The man kept looking at her. She began noticing a strange, orange hue in his almond-shaped eyes, a look that seemed familiar to her, although the look is not very common amongst men. It was almost like in werewolf movies when the man is turning, only a much, much more subtle coloration.

   “We are almost there. It will only be a few more minutes”, he said. She was becoming very frustrated, and moreso scared.

   “Really, we should not be out here, look at the sky. It is turning a rather bothersome shade of gray. And I hear the thunder. Warmth and storms are not a good thing. It means there may be a tornado, two different fronts colliding. I am serious, if you do not take this boat to shore, I will…”

   The man then stood up abruptly, almost with the agility of a cat. There was a very distinguishable spring in his step, and she wondered if he maybe had been an athlete. His eyes had become even more slanted now, and were a bit scary, almost like a gray alien, which terrified her to no end. His bald head shone in the light of what little sun came from the slits in the gray matter in the sky. He did not really look black, or white. He didn’t really look oriental or Hispanic, either. Honestly, if there were a color between green and black, a color that no one maybe had ever seen in a human being before, it would have been the color of his skin. Almost like a marble cake, with it all swirled almost entirely together, leaving only a very fine line to tell it was, indeed marble cake.

   “No, we are not going to shore. This is very important. I am sorry I cannot tell you, but a man cannot know where he is going when he is headed toward something unknown, something he has never seen before. For how could he? He has never seen. If I were to try to tell you without you seeing it with your own eyes, you may think you had gone mad and jump overboard. Not that you would drown, as this water is not more than twenty feet deep. But, there is indeed a pretty nasty storm coming, so doing so would not be in your best interest. Please, sit down and trust me. This is for you. You will soon understand. I am your friend…”

   The girl now felt in a bit of a panic. She seriously began to think she had been kidnapped by some crazy person, and she frantically dug through her pockets, trying to locate a phone she should have had with her…
   No phone. No idea where she was going, or where she was for that matter. Just that she was on a boat with a complete stranger, who was beginning to seem more familiar, and yet more odd and foreign by the minute. She could not have been more startled, nor dumbfounded.
Finally, a large ripping sound could be heard from the heavens, and rain began to pour down on them. She saw just ahead what looked like a formation growing in the water. But what could it be? A formation, in the water. It did not look like creature, but more like a hurricane. But a hurricane? On a lake, with a mere 20 foot depth? No way in hell that was even possible! She turned to the man, rain and hair streaking her face until all around her had become a mere blur of color and shape.
“What the hell is that?!” she screamed. She was beginning to shiver, partly from cold and partly from sheer terror. She looked at the man, and he actually looked like he was trying not to completely lose it, like a POW enduring water boarding to protect the secrets of his country. His almond-shaped eyes looked enraged. If she had to guess, she would have said he looked as if he had never touched water before, but tried to avoid it altogether his whole life.

   “No, it’s not a hurricane. It is something you will have to experience. I cannot explain it to you.”

   “Will it hurt me?”

   “No… it will show you…”

   She turned around then, and before she knew it they had entered into the gigantic formation of dark gray matter. She then felt a strange dizziness come over her, and then a sudden, almost unbearable burst of happiness and sadness, all at the same time. It was like a gigantic burden had burst from her chest, and she could finally rest in peace. She then looked over at the man… and she couldn’t believe her eyes.
To her, what her eyes wanted her to believe was that the man at this time, had turned into what appeared to be a cat, a tabby cat! The stripes of gray and black on his face had grown into fur of the same color, all over his face, like a Chia Pet on super speed. His eyes had become a very intense shade of yellowish orange, and his mouth looked tighter, puffier and had a few goatee hairs that seemed longer than the rest. His whole body, arms, legs, face… it all had taken a cat-like appearance. She felt as if he had to have been dreaming. But the rain, the wind, the “hurricane”… it all seemed so real. SO very real.


   “My name is Mr. Gingist, and I have brought you here to show you that I am okay. You do not understand it now, but when you do, it will all fit together perfectly. You can rest now. I am.”

Look, lady. I'll give you credit for one thing, and one thing only. You raiesd a helluva good man. Other than that, what the hell have you done lately? You haven't worked a job in over four years. You've lived with us for nearly two, and yet, when I ask you to do something around the house I get the equivalent of "*******."

I always clean up after your ***** ***, load the dishwasher and clean up after the cats. I vacuumed your bedroom when you were gone for months, and when I ask you to do one thing, you reply "why do you always ask me to do things? You're not my mother. Why don't you go vacuum my bedroom?" If I weren't marrying your son, good god...

It really is no surprise to me you've gone through five husbands in 62 years. Given, two of them were abusive, but you've said yourself you gave up a few good ones because they didn't "meet your standards." So, I suppose since no more 20-year-old mexicans want to marry your trifling *** for citizenship, you're just going to *** it out with us.

The irony is, I DID vacuum your bedroom regularly back when you stayed at your daughter's for months on end. **** if that'll ever happen again.

I'd give you credit for more if you deserved it, but you're snide and rude although you put on a good rouse, and for that you get credit for one thing, and one  thing only. The man who is 1/2 of the children who still give a **** about you. I know the other two kids are pieces of **** and you have good reason for not speaking with them, but let's face it. You'd have found a reason to disassociate with them regardless.

So, continue not showing me any affection, no touches, hugs or any form of love a future in-law should give. You're a miserable *******, and my relationship with your son is the only reason I put up with it.

There are words in my mind that won’t let me go.
They strangle me, inhibit my ability to think and steal away my control.
The longer they stay inside, the deeper I hide within myself, unable to seep through to what I want to say and do.

   There are words in my mind that won’t let me go.
They strangle me, inhibit my ability to think and steal away my control.
These words are the words I read, write and verbalize at school. They get stuck in me when I leave to go home, and suppress the words I need to express what I’m feeling to those around me that I love.

   There are words in my mind that won’t let me go.
They strangle me, inhibit my ability to think and steal away my control.
They are the words I cannot say to the people around me who impose, who won’t leave because they’ve no place else to go. If I say these words, bad things happen, turbulence starts up and ends in me apologizing to keep the peace.

   There are words in my mind that I need to let out.
They will strangle me, inhibit my ability to think and steal away my control if I don’t.
I will scream them into my pillow, or write in a journal if I have to.
They will be let out.

That feeling I get when I obscure what's true, that feeling is you.

When I feel the impulse I know is the death of me, the draw towards destruction, that feeling is you.

When I think back to back then, when I didn't know what was good for me, when I didn't know what a real man was; when a distant, guitar- clad look and an aim to go nowhere was a teenage libido driven by a fantasy.

So much has changed since them, about eight years gone by. When you first began manipulating me, I felt like I would die. The giver I was, undisciplined in self-worth and chasing after a lost, broken boy. I gave you my affection and attention, which you in-turn treated as a toy.

I don't blame you altogether for it, I don't think you loved yourself either. I think you saw a source of physical completion, a misdirected ****** force.

Neither of us really cared about one another, it was just an silly high school thing. Your depression became my project, and I became a useful thing.

We don't talk anymore, we may be friends on social media, I'm not even sure. But when I think back to carelessness, face-value affection and the time in my life when I lost myself in a bad thing, there is one thing I can undeniably conclude.

That feeling was you.

What's it like to have OCD?
   Did I count the times I shut the door? One, two, or three?
What's it like to have OCD?
   I read my school assignment a few times too many, just to guarantee.
What's it like to have OCD?
   Every night, I leave my fiance in bed for a while, so I can walk around and check everything; are both doors locked? Is the Dawn where it's supposed to be? Is the sponge correctly aligned? One... two... three

Well hi there, I need a mole removal. I'd do it myself but I need biopsy approval. If it 'a cancerous, I'd like to know. And for this reason, to the dermatologist I'll go.
  Well hi, there, I see you're in-network. A $50 copay? Sure, that'll work. What's that? Later in you're going to charge me a $150 new-patient fee? But, why? I was only in here for maybe twenty minutes. Am I now being charged rent to sit my *** on your medical chair?
   So now I'll wait for the bill to arrive. Oh, look. It's here... Wonder what it'll be?
$298!? What the hell could've cost so much? All you did was inject me with some sedative, bring in something comparable to a box opener and lop it off. The whole thing, in-room with me took you just about less than 15...
   Oh, and look... It looks like my insurance did pay more than half. It cost nearly $800 for the whole thing. What the crap?!
  Oh, I suppose our country is trying to work out the kinks. And for all my troubles, I guess I'll be finalizing my account for mostly, if not all free. Once the financial assistance department decides to stop giving me the run-around. Next time, I suppose I'll need to inspect further. Just because the office is down the street does NOT necessarily mean it's going to end up being cheaper. Because if I'd have known maybe $10 in gas would have saved me all this trouble, I would not have gone to what is technically classified as a "hospital."

She doesn't pay compliments, nor does she pay rent.
She comes and goes freely, just as she pleases and generally doesn't clean up after herself. But she raised a good man, and for that I can't be too harsh.

She isn't very social, nor does she like to be touched, or hugged.
She is extremely homophobic and against same-*** marriage, although she's had 4 failed marriages. She thinks it's okay to marry a man half her age to make him legal to work for her, but not okay for two people who love each other with the same anatomy to do the same. But she raised a good man, and for that I can't be too harsh.

She lost her job a few years back, she lost her house about a year ago. She went to nursing school although she should've been retired, and she bought a $500 dog although she was broke. But she and I get along okay. Due to her domineering personality, I have to usually stay inside myself and not speak my mind to avoid stupid conflicts between a modern-age woman and a woman who wished she'd have been a small-town housewife.

She took her son to find a ring for me, and although I know she's against marriage, she must see some of what he sees. I pride myself in being tolerant and I think that goes a long way with us. So much has changed in the six years since we first met, and I know she, more than both of us wished she had had it turn out much differently. I guess she probably has to swallow a lot of what little pride she has left. She is probably more uncomfortable than I've ever been.

She is a hard-headed, impossibly independent, civil-issue intolerant and socially deficient 62-year-old Woman who leaves her dishes lying about and who has several times let my indoor-only cat out. But she raised a good man, and for that I can't be too harsh and must always be in her debt.

The end.