Emptying · the · Cup

I visited something which I hold dear to me, something which from all things in me spring. It's like a fountain, and never stops pouring and giving. But any time it reaches out its dear hand it breaks. Takes months to heal. Never does really heal. I have learned how to pull it back from everything and hold it close to me. Today I went to its edge and dug a chasm, and circled it with an impenetrable wall. I'd like to say fences and barbed wire, but I can't, because it's more than that. To the outside it will appear like stone. The inside is warm and pulsing and it is so strong, it'll break through what I've built and I'll just have to keep doing it and it'll keep breaking until there's nothing and then werde ich endlich storben. Niemand versteht mich. Das ist ok. Ich verstehe mich.

. I burst out crying after saying someone's name aloud, having previously been completely fine, sobbed for a few seconds, then was completely fine again. It has never, ever happened before.

I want to shout to the whole world that I am sitting in my house in silence, and not, at the moment, trying to sleep. Avoiding homework, yes... but that remains a problem of not being able to focus and having the entire internet at my disposal, what with all the emails and the musics and the writings n' stuff. I realize now that the whole world--indeed, perhaps not even one person in it--will not know why I am so excited that I have no TV, no music, no need for anything but the ambient noise outside my window. I do, though. It won't last, simply because I'm sure I'll feel like listening to something. But for now it's enough to know that I don't need noise. It's a big step. I don't think this is a permanent thing; I've never allowed myself to really hope for something like that: A life where I don't have to run so hard from the thoughts or feelings I have that I get exhausted from the thought of a simple task. I still do, in fact... the thought of doing my laundry is bleak and overwhelming. But I have always disliked doing laundry. The afterwards of having nice clean clothes (not to mention socks that match) is nice. Oh but the carrying of the bags...
.

Anyway, the potential--and it's like electricity--is always there for those thoughts, and I can feel them stirring. Those were terrifying thoughts, always about my future or the future of others that had me so worried I couldn't do anything. I was a tiny, scared person in a cage with a monster. But the cage door opened. I got out and grew to twice my size. We're even in size now. There's no explaining anything without convoluted analogies or metaphors any more, and those of you that know me KNOW you don't want me to go down that path.
 

It just occurred to me that my entries are fucking CRZY. see are zhi why. I either sound pretentious or nuts. Ha, who gives a fuck. When there's no one, no one to talk to, because I can't, words on a screen that someone else might see are good enough.

Yet, I should have a gown. Someone needs to look at me, but I will never get around to it. Someone who doesn't know me can see my tears and they've seen it all, those doctors, so they should look upon it with an objective, distant sympathy, which I prefer. Someone who feels nothing towards me one way or the other and so has no reason to lie, and we know the boundaries of our relationship, the relationship ends when I walk out the door.

    They could look at my body

my hand is broken, and my eye hurts to blink or close. It is infected, or bruised, or having an allergic reaction. I have a skin problem that I cannot get rid of, and it hurts me, and I know what it is, just not how to stop it. Maybe it isn't what I think it is. My mother has it, she fixed it in a way I can't, because I have to fucking see people every day. I can't have that kind of hair. I have seen a psychologist every year since I was starting high school, but they dismiss me every time they figure out nothing's wrong, and then my friends, horrified when I really talk to them, make me go back.
My back won't stop hurting, and although that is not unusual in itself it is accompanied by a strange pulsing neck pain that won't go away.

So I take painkillers every day, and drink caffeine so I can think and don't sleep for the entire day.
Forgive me if I've been a bitch lately, everything's wrong, and so many things are right that I don't know what to be thankful for. I have a roof over my head and food in my belly and that is more than I could ever ask for.
 

My hands swell and I remember what they will look like when I am older and it haunts me every morning and I forget it with the noise of the day but in the quiet of night it comes back and I am so afraid. I believe at this point that there is nothing anyone can do to help me, and if you talk to me about it I will deny it and I won't really open up even if I do, and you can't help me, only in the short term, because it always comes back, please don't mention it, let's talk about the weather instead. Like when you make a decision and then later on live it over and over and over except you play it differently, all the different ways you could have done it so things didn't turn out the way they did... That is the way I think my life will be.

"That's what I am" and I loved him for it.  The chef made me Ramen Noodles and I felt at odds with myself, at once thinking something was wrong and that also something was very right, new and mysterious and delicious in every single goddamn way, so undeniably sinful, if anything secret can be, and feeling like I couldn't stop it whatever it was, and I don't want to.
 
Yes, out there where all the exits on the pike get close together.

I pulled out of the parking lot still in shock over what I had done. And somehow driving halfway blind found the Pike.
 
Had I planned it? I kissed him firmly on the lips, thrice, and didn't remember afterwards how exactly it had gone. It could have been one of my daydreams, for all the reality it has now, except that unlike daydreams it's in the mind of another now too, exactly like it happened.
Oh, but I'm not sure how, exactly, it happened. I definitely planned it, but the planning was beside my conscious thought much in the way a man walks next to a train..

oh whoops... drunk now.

I was reading through a few of my very old entries, and felt inclined to mark their places because I was actually very, very.. so much more insightful than I am now. What can I say about myself now? Nothing, those thoughts don't occur to me..

No, wrong.. they do.

I gotted dumber! I gots to fixes it.

I feel like I've been a bad, bad person and friend, and then as I was walking out of a Shaws in Waltham decided to always treat people better than they treat me.

that when you clean out a room or a house or whatever, you fill a couple boxes, and man, they are full boxes, and then when you step out of the room it looks EXACTLY THE SAME like you didn't make a single dent. Mein Gott! Ich werde nie fertig sein!

I have found deoderant! It was in my shoe. That is the greatest triumph of the morning. My lack of preparedness? No socks. No sweater. But I do indeed have a change of underwear.
'Tis a good day.
 
I thought I'd be able to change clothes though. And I thought I'd have socks. And a sweater.  Ah, the things we do when we assume that our checked bags will arrive at the airport when we do.

I went home to Maine for a little while, but passed out for the entirety of friday, which was my day to do things. I am sorry Liz that I did not call you! I'm sure you know better than any other of my friends how paralyzing going home can be. I even had someone with me to make it better, but it didn't do much good. Not enough time there to get acclimated and able to do things other than sit upstairs and wish that I were a different sort of person.

It is only eight o'clock, but I think I will go to bed. What I really want to do is go out. Not just out anywhere but out out, like to a huge party where everyone is getting really drunk but not passing out, and there are crazy things happening all around me, and I want to wear the things I got at this store that I almost never buy things from that no one is yet deserving to see me in, not even myself, and I want to get smashed (but not so smashed that I have a hangover, because I am fairly sure that the next time I get one I will pee myself because I will be unable to move), and dance with strangers, and fuck homework and the future and all these uninteresting things that have to go on. I want to cry my eyes out over my professor (I can't, because I can't let myself get too upset over him. It doesn't make any sense). I want everyone in the world I ever knew to be at this party. Or maybe I want no one I know to be at this party, so I can reinvent myself and be someone totally different, and then maybe someone I do know can walk in halfway through and look in my eyes and not know who I am, because, I feel like all I have to do is flick a switch and I will be a different person, because there is no me, and then they could report back to everyone else, shocked. Especially at what I was wearing.
 
Oh but it's undergarments, so no one would see it anyway, except for the person I decided to take to my hotel room.
 
So I will go to bed, anyway, at 810 or so, because no one has called me to use me for anything, and I am.. actually quite tired.

I had very cold hands, and was mainly focused on that. I then decided two things. One, that I would not destroy another marriage. Two, that I would go to Home Depot and buy plastic.
Then I realized two things. One, that I had to check my finances, and that indeed if I were correct about the state of the universe as pertaining to my life that I would not have to worry so much any more. Just now as I was checking my calendar I realized another happy thing, and that is that yesterday was payday.
Of course, things change. Now I'm going to Target instead of Home Depot, and it's... shrink-wrapping plastic, instead of actual... sheets of... er.
Er... masculine, nominative, singular. A word can be so many things.
ME HUNGRY.