Blue Eyes

When I first moved to LA, I was involved with a guy who called me Blue Eyes. Never Lyndsey or even Lyn. Always Blue Eyes. He was enamored with me in a way that I often wished someone else could be and when he looked at me it was always a penetrating stare intended to locate a part of me I had no intention of sharing.

This eventually ended up in two years of stalker phone calls every night at three am and the occasional break-in to my apartment building to bang on my door while declaring his endless devotion.

I have been hearing a lot about my eyeballs today presumably because I chopped off all of my hair and dyed it a dark cherry brown this weekend out of boredom. My boss asked me if I got colored contacts. I told him they were the same as they had always been.

I got stopped in the line at the grocery store, in the parking lot and in the park. Comments about my appearance. Frightening a little.

And the thing is I felt like shit. All day. I just wanted to close my eyes and cry but my stupid eye balls always give me away.

I have felt this way for the better part of the week. Yesterday I hit the swings at lunch. I took a note pad and wrote to look slightly less crazy.

Last night I sweated to the oldies.

Today I met my girlfriend and her puppy at the park. I brought sandwiches. She brought the cheer.

I don't get angry very often but when I do it is worse than the stomach flu. Long after the illness is gone, a gross feeling lingers on.

There is nothing worse than fighting with people you care about, except for perhaps hot understanding why there is fighting in the first place.

I feel like I should be quippy but I just don’t think I have it in my. I am just going to cover up my blue eyes and wait for this to pass.