Shana Genever 2009

Goodbye, Shana

I have had so many nights where I want to just run away for a little while. Get in my car and drive, and call my husband from a pay phone somewhere upcountry. But these fantasies, no matter how rooted in really feelings of entrapment are merely just that; fantasies.

Liar Liar (Pretty sure he’s on fire)

In order to remain respectful, I will not reveal this person’s name. From here on out I will only refer to him as ‘Naaier’.  

Hiatus 2: I hate this too.

So, at 5.30am, I stopped my car outside of the corner shop. From my back seat, I could have sworn I heard laughter. The laughter sounded young; adolescent. I decided I must have heard something/someone from outside the vehicle, and as I let my passenger in, my stomach dropped, as I was overcome with a feeling of nausea and dread. “Hello Shana”, she said.

The illusion of time

To summarise, the urge to shake my daughter to death and put her in the oven isn’t one that I would like to wear on my sleeve. I constantly have the daydream where I forget her in the car. I keep seeing myself drop her from the bed.