2003-11-23 - 6:43 a.m.

'"sometimes lonely hearts just get lonelier"'

I've come to a point where I feel like all of my pain is old fucking news. Like I'm far too old to feel this way still. And like I need to hurry up and find the thing that'll let me shake all these blues away. And off. And outside of myself. I want to be orange again. Bright and fucking sunny inside.

I hate the dark empty places living inside me. I hate that they are me. So I hate that I hate me. And I feel so much like I'm lacking. Like I'm lacking too much.

These past few days have been pretty hard on me. Sleep and I have been doing a claustrophobic slow dance for weeks on end now. He keeps stepping on my toes and forcing the lead. I sleep too much. I sleep too little. Yesterday I went for a very early morning drive to calm the throbbing in my head caused by knowing that this would be a too-little sleep night. I hate the roads at six a.m. That's when all the cars stop hitting their snooze buttons and hit the streets instead. And I'm forced back inside. To an empty apartment and an empty bed. To do more struggling with my all but empty head.

I'm scared that I feel on the verge of hitting all of my limits. I want to smash my tv with a hammer. But then what would keep me company at 5:52 in the morning? And spoon-feed me all those wonderful lies about love?

Saw 'the Station Agent' yesterday. And it made me want to run away. No bags. No boxes. No forwarding address. Just go. Leave it all behind me. The truth is, though, that I know I'll be lonely nowhere just as surly as I'm lonely somewhere. Just as surely as I'm lonely right here.

No amount of sprinting will ever let me dodge my past. It's tethered to me. Attached by a string so short I keep knocking my forehead against it. Over and over and over again. I am the girl whose mom got sick with cancer. I am the girl who saw her die. And I'm the same girl who has been alone ever since. Terrified to let anyone within arms reach of me. Cold and angry and so so sad. I am all defense mechanisms with nothing much real left, I fear, to defend under all this machinery. I'm scared to peel it back. Scared to take a peek. Scared I might not be me anymore underneath.

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