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4:05 p.m. - 12/29/02 Sometimes, I imagine myself with every "imperfection" taken to the fullest, most grotesque extent, and I am able to laugh at the inaccuracy of my perception. It doesn't work today. Something about the doctor's quickness doesn't sit calmly with me. His ability to respond the second I have said something; his ability to articulate thoughts about issues I've needed years to voice. The quickness of his words- "that's outrageous"- or the repetition of them- "you know where to find me- that almost makes them meaningless. How do I call him when his words were probably just a gesture, simple as a "take care" placed pleasantly at the end of a situation, simple as "see you next week." I know I need to call him, but I hate to. What do I say? What do I say except that I need to tear my face off and wear my bones around? What do I say except that last night a girl in my dream said, "You should just submit your scars; you have far more scars than you do plays." I've been walking around as someone powerful, invincible almost- not because I can't be touched but because I can't be destroyed...because I've finally found tools to access and work with my power. I felt safe. I forgot that I felt that way at Rogers, too...then came home and lost it. Gained it, lost it again at the beginning of January. I forget that I can go back, at any time. Or if not back, to someplace similar, some place that does everything in its power to convince me I never left, will never leave. I want to escape, but the only way out is through, too. The only way out is through. Just please. Don't ever hate me so badly as I hate myself inside this. chord � � |