8:50 p.m. - 06/22/02
...it's the strangest thing - i'm sad and i don't care...
dare I say it's passing? dare I ask it why?
and now that I can focus for a moment on how I feel behind 'nauseous' and 'achy' and 'like I've been run over by a steam engine on a Monday' I realize I'm - sad? really tiring-ly quietly sad? like I want to curl up in a blanket and stare at the walls and think about how it rains on Saturdays sometimes and people bend over each other under umbrellas, and I'm here in my house staring out the window, and it really is Saturday but it isn't really raining, so on and so forth. like, remember that night when, sniffle, poem, sigh et cetera...? it isn't a terribly depressed upset of a sadness. it isn't even a crying sort of sadness. it's just this quiet. the best I've felt all evening was sitting on my stairs with my sherman alexie book that (thankfully) did reappear, whispering his near-poetry aloud.
so apparently, Britt tried to call me, but it was busy. :/ not a happy thought, but then, I wouldn't be the best of company today. I'm so far inside myself, I can barely see my fingers typing. lately I feel like my body could be moved through, like I am only so steady as a ghost. it isn't a bad thing, really; it's just that thoughts and ideas and sensate knowledge of the world seems to spill through me as I need it, then disappear again. I say things to my friends they can't believe I thought to say. "right when you mentioned that, I was looking at it" et cetera. it's too constant to be coincidental; so, yes I'm starting to feel like a sieve for the spirits to conduct their deeds.
oddly, though I don't feel I'm doing any good this way. though I am drawn to the feeling of quiet vulnerability that comes with keeping oneself accessible this way.
it's one of those weeks where two days after having seen the doctor, I think the appointment must be coming up within a few hours because the time has stretched painfully, and I can't believe I have days to wait out on my own. I yelled a little at my mom because she started speculating about where these migraines (I've taken to calling them migraines again, now that the blood sugar business is officially closed) are coming from, and she had all these ideas about how I wasn't getting enough protein, or the right protein, or how some other oddness with my meal plan. I wanted to hit her. the last thing you tell me is that I'm not ok with my food, especially when my dietician is perfectly happy with my food, and there's no reason to think that's what's bothering me. as if she has any right to talk, miss "I had a good lunch so I can have a salad for dinner and pretend that's healthy." miss "I'm cheating if I eat anything other than grass."
after the in-my-room-uninvited issue this morning, I really wasn't capable of letting it go.
it'll be really nice when I live in my own dorm room, and maybe Sara is my roommate, and maybe sometimes we don't feel like talking ourselves asleep, so we just sit and listen to the silence two willing girlbodies can create.
I wish they weren't coming home tonight...just tonight.
chord
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