8:45 p.m. - 03/03/03
-:haven't seen Barbados.:::]
Guns aren't lawful/ nooses give/ gas smells awful...*
It's more than that. I have to live.
Tonight was one of those rare nights when i didn't know better or maybe when I didn't have access to the part of me which knows better, which I think adds up to about the same. Tonight I looked at the shame and saw truth, looked at the lies and saw reality, looked at the options, and made choices all but the opposite of those I want to/ need to make. It's not that I did anything. What is the obsession with action? It's not that I did anything finally- I didn't purge, cut, restrict, swallow pills, scrub bleach...I didn't do anything I could have done. It's just the velocity of despair sometimes. It's screaming at the sky when you haven't decided whether or not you feel God the way people taught you to belive in "him." Reading the codes in my twitching muscles for signs of (and directions regarding) life...
The parents went to an appointment with the doc, and asked him to call me, which he can't do. He said he'd call me tomorrow, that I need to take my meds and sleep. At least I don't have to feel the humiliation of a true every-other-day scheme. And I don't know what I would have said to him. I don't know what I will say to him, when he calls tomorrow morning. I'm tired of not being normal, even when I'm alone in the room. I'm tired of being crazy. I didn't sign on for it, whatever this is. I didn't sign on the line for creativity or family or whatever else gave me this brain...
And I guess I'd give it up if I could...I guess if I could, I'd do something other than try and live with the brain I have for reasons I don't know.
In the meantime, I build towers out of words. Words to me, words I pretened are to me. In the meantime, I am Rapunzel, braiding and rebraiding my own hair.
Help me, life. Help me, future girl. Help me save myself...
chord
*Dorothy Parker
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