9:55 p.m. - 05/26/03
i promise i'll believe you this time.
As I fell back asleep this morning (stupid flurazepam) Sara (who I thought was Sarah-my-sister) called and I didn't take it and then I felt awful. I told myself that, rationally speaking, I was exhausted; I hadn't gotten enough sleep, and now I was tired enough to catch up ... what I did was best for me, and on top of that, how could I have had an enjoyable conversation with her if I was half-asleep? Goodness knows I would have felt guilty for that if I'd taken the phone when my mom offered it. So apparently, it takes more than 72 hours to cure codependency. Dagnabit.
I have been trying. I really, honestly have been trying. I read journal entries, and I'm careful about whether I click to the guestbook right away. I'm learning to incorporate phrases like, "it is not my responsibility to respond to every person every time" into that moment between reading and reply. I'm trying to stay more in the realm of "I love you, and this sucks" and away from "I love you; let me fix this." And of course, sometimes, it's just all thrown out the window. Sometimes, I read (or in tonight's case scan) the details of a struggle that is always too familiar and currently too much, and I'd give anything to just stop all of this. I think of the pain in Sara's voice when we last talked, about her tone on the answering machine when I call - how she sounds like she's about to start crying any moment. And I know she has reason to. "I have reason to also, and it isn't my job or my best plan to try and fix things for everyone else," but it hurts so much. At least, I'm starting to believe what Dr. R has said all along: the pain is what's around the gift (of relation), not the gift itself. The pain is something stored inside me because of my past, but it isn't inherent in relating. I know that because I see now how connected it is to the thoughts I have and the way I handle what's going on for my friends. I thought it was the love I have and the reality of what's going on for people, but that's not it entirely, or even mostly. Mostly, it's that I want to make everything better, and I need a new goal.
Is there a word as good as superheroine that I can hang onto for awhile, to keep the focus on saving me? Maybe it's just Brave again. I swear I can hardly say my name through the tiredness of trying to stay strong in it. Not the tiredness of a false self but a false environment. I'm the real Julius Caesar trapped in the play.*
...By now you've probably noticed the new design - evidence that my aforementioned chord/template love-triangle resulted in me running off with the new beauty. Though, actually, upon strict comparison, I think she looks oddly similar to the older beauty. Same haircut perhaps? So anyway: same girl, better clarity, more vividly in color, (oh so) ready to go somewhere, responding to the speed of life with increased determination (not giving in), and reminding me of the city. Actually, she really reminds me of Dela (for unknown reasons), though oddly enough, I wore a very similar coat and carried a very similar bag during a great deal of my most recent stay in New York. Dude, that is so suspicious. (Actually, my fake paranoia is all fueling into why this designer keeps seducing me via templates. And how does she do it? Weirdness abounds.)
I guess that's basically all the comments I have - other than ::drool, crave, drool:: and "why must the background be white?!" - about the layout. Other than: I decided to unveil it with the ever-so-important 635th entry, which means that's what this is. Living up to the hype, isn't it? Because honestly, a girl's 1270th journal entry (not counting about 45 or 60 ones that weren't written here or at atomgirl) is terribly important. It's a milestone. Ok, actually, it's more of a milepebble, but it seems important, considering. And any reason to say, hey, "I'm not where I was" is one I'll take.
Speaking of milepebbles, (you may have noticed from the previous entry that) I'm graduating this year. All sorts of unapproved feelings are dancing around, and I don't have the energy to host them right now. (My feelings-frontier is a seriously hot spot. Issues wait months or even years to break through the crowd onto the surface. It's like being in the Oprah audience, except I don't care how they're dressed.) I honestly don't know what to do with it. I want nothing to do with the rest of this school year, (seriously, in what universe - other than D!@#$%^ - do seniors take exams, especially if they have As in everything?), I don't want to reminisce about N*land (the good *or* the bad), I don't want to outline what I've learned, and prepare for the next stage of my life (as if I'm ever prepared for anything). I'd be ok if this all went away for awhile, or actually - if it were all finished already. Though I'm starting to build some cool plans for my graduation party, and I know that somewhere on the far side of this depression (*insert string of telltale expletives*) I'm absolutely bouncing at the impending liberation. And I probably *do* want to be all introspective regarding the past and future. I just also find it depressing. A lot of the past was bad, and the future looks foggy.
Goals for tomorrow: (oh, how the pangs stir in my little strung-to-Rogers heart) finish my soc homework and do a significant amount of gothic work, make myself presentable just for the sake of self-care, check to see if the pharmacy filled the prescription - even if it was for Buspar, continue fighting the codependency, indulge in long gazes at my new layout, and do something to keep my spirits up. I can't exactly dismantle this depression, but I can, at the very least, make it work a little harder to ruin my day.
On the audience-involvement front, I haven't talked to anyone in a few days. I haven't talked to anyone significant in a really long time. So feel free to tell me something completely pointless. It's good to know I'm connected to the world.
take care; don't caretake- ;)
chord
*my head was too tired to come up with anyone else - so can we please have a good clean ides of march this year?
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