leftunspoken's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- & I try I'm trying so hard to remember what the appropriate response is when people stand in front of me and speak. I can tell they're disappointed when I just blink. I'm trying to answer the phone because it rings. I'm not sure what they're saying though. I'm trying to make what I think are appropriate paper shuffling gestures because people look at me funny when they find me at my desk staring at the wall. I came this morning and now came back, to this place I feel safe. This world where I put the words that would have spun endlessly in my head ... objects in motion and all that...you know...they don't stop. I tried to read others' entries. Attempting the familiar. But I couldn't understand the words. I think, maybe they were about war, and wrong and right, and they started to make that sharp pain fill the space behind my eyes. There are tears in my eyes, but I don't remember why. I behave for a few minutes, and then it's all that I can do to not slide off my chair. I want to cover my ears with my hands. I want my blanket. I want my bed. I don't even want to cut myself. I don't have that much energy. I just want to sleep. Please. I'll be good just let me sleep. If I sleep long enough it'll stop. I can wake up someone new. The me that smiles and remembers to breathe. I'm horrible and ungrateful and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I've been given this lovely little space of life and I've cracked it so many times. I want. I want the me that days find open-armed. I want the whole ride, even the scary parts. I really do. I want to throw my arms up and yell for all I'm worth. But I'm afraid. My seams are weak and won't hold me all in. If I throw my arms up parts of me might fall out. 1:21 p.m. - March 17, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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