8:00 p.m. - 06/14/02
as my life has been altered once// it [[can]] change* again.
by the time I'd been keeping atomgirl 7 months, I'd written over 400 entries. in a couple days, this journal will have its seven month birthday, and it's only seen 200 something. yet, 200 entries is probably more than I wrote in all my paper journals combined. other than the infamous middle-school-poeticisms o'course.
somehow or another, my parents ended up on their way to kansas city, and I ended up here, in the same black chair at the same brown desk. I had packed: packed my meds, my clothes, my toothbrush, my writing material, my currently important CDs...I had emotionally prepared myself and I had left myself mental reminders that read: hey. you have to go. because if you don't, you'll end up home alone, and it's not like *that* will make you feel better, you silly depressive girl.
that's why I was going really. because I thought going was better than staying home. because I thought the bright lights and the city air might smack some sense into me. even though bright lights in general tend to make me blink like a culture-shocked epileptic and smoky city air tends to trigger asthma attacks. and of course, I have a very strong theory that Dale hates me. he was angry at Sarah for a few years before she even realized it, and I'm worried that my not showing up after chatting with him and copying down directions could trigger a similar animosity in my direction. but then, it's not like Dale and I have the greatest relationship in the first place. maybe that's why I'm worried.
erm.
the truth is that staying home by myself in the (medium) depths of depression really isn't a good idea, and that's why I was so wary of doing so. but then, as the time to leave grew closer, I felt tears growing closer also, and tears are like a tide-change for me. usually. if I can get through the shock and sedation enough to actually experience crying, I tend to calm down the storms inside my head. I knew that if I went with my parents I wouldn't cry, and experience dictates that would leave me irritable in an already difficult situation. if I cried before we left, I would end up feeling tired and quiet, and probably a little afraid of having made myself so vulnerable in their presence. but if I stayed home, and the tears fell freely and the pain drained from me - if only temporarily- I would probably survive the 24 or so hours on my own.
though I didn't really estimate with the guilt factor in mind. still, I made my decision- I believe it is the lesser of two evils- and I'm preparing for an early night. and maybe another juice pop.
the crying didn't really do what I thought it would, though it did calm the depression and wake the self a little. I cried so hard my sinuses filled and drained back into my system, and I ended up feeling pretty sick and not all that relieved. despite all the beauty called forth with those silly poems, I'm feeling quite alone right now. I was thinking today that in Neverland, I knew who I was in reference to other people. their perceived needs or desires dictated who I was, and even though that's not what I want, I did have a sense of relation there.
red, of course, was better. in red, I was as *I* am, and I related from that place. so I had a purpose and a geography of sorts without the external dictation. but still, I think I'd rather be that neverland's version of Mary with people to relate to, then this red-mary without anyone. the peace and happiness of red-mary is based largely on her interaction with others. you can see why she falters in this isolation.
it's a secret I don't tell: I don't really want to be a recluse after all.
so there's this dichotomy now, shifted. no longer in my perception, but rather in my life. I have all-or-nothing choices to make. I can either go out into a painful situation with my parents or I can stay home and have no one. there is no middle ground; there is no safe and loving face-to-face interaction. I can either go to school and be terrified or I can stay home and know no one. the world is a catch, and I am 22.
or 17. or something. cuts on my knees, she said, yes. cuts on my knees.
it just always come back to, what if there really is no place like home? what if there really is nothing so beautiful as red? what if I can't wake up enough before college to actually meet people when I'm there? if my whole life is a string of potential unfulfilled? potential is a mockery; it's a fighting word. again and again, all I hear are those things I could have, might have, should still do. I'm in such need to have someone in my life, my physical, sensate life, who can say to me, "listen. if you never again do anything but breathe- and listen to your heart bit, you will still be more than enough to deserve existence in this world."
I wanted to say that it's the hardest I've cried for RED since those first weeks home, but it seems I've written that before. I'm listening to Ks Choice again, and I know they haven't fit this well since those first weeks with Harriet. We're all so strong when nothing's wrong, kids. We're almost like a corny movie scene.
~
excerpts from the latest bits of love:
"I'm soooo glad you're doing better. I still think about you right before I enter a stage, thinking, "If Mary were here, she would push me out there before I had time to get nervous!" He he he, it helps a lot... Whatever you do, I'm sure you'll get into whatever college you desire. One look at your essay and they'll be BEGGING you to come. It's good to hear that you're still writing. (I still take out the Yellow School Bus and read it sometimes) You know, I try to act amazed when I hear you have plays being produced in NY, but it doesn't surprise me at all because it's you. Someday, kids in M!@#$'s honors English 3 class will study You instead of tennessee williams. (a great decision on somebody's part if I do say so myself) Anyway, if you are in the area, I don't mind driving a ways to see you. I'd love to go out and do something." -my Scotty, who doesn't hate me after all
"I managed to find two minutes and read army girl. Dude, it's awesome." -my sissy, on a poem I wrote about Jenna
"I know that words strung together in sentences are inadequate to express the deep emotions you feel. I have to say that your poetry expresses the truth and the emotion within it most eloquently. It is an honor to read - enlightening, uplifting and brilliant." -more from that angel, Laura
~
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