"Here comes the rain again, falling on my head like a memory...."
Here we go again. All the signs are there. The too much sleeping...all this writing...and the iPod... The iPod is out and on for the first time...well, since I left Marshall, actually. Theory: if I can fill my head with the music, then it drowns out the silence and it blocks out the constant internal stream of conversation.
Can I stop it? I don't know. Will it just...pass? I don't know. Why don't I do something about it? Why don't I do something to help myself? Or maybe I can't. Maybe I won't until all that's important to me has been destroyed, pushed away. I'm working on that now. Tearing out big hunks, little hunks of my life, like old drywall. Chuckle. Nice analogy considering. Almost like an out-of-body experience. Just...watching myself do it with an 'oh, well' attitude. Threw away that, pushed away him, hurt her, no, don't want to talk, no you didn't do anything wrong, I'm just...doing to myself what I deserve. Just let it be, okay? Let it be, let it be....
Am I just one of those people who needs to get on something and STAY there? God, I hate taking that stuff. It cuts out the lows, but there are times when it's right to cry, when I need those tears; but it also cuts out the highs and I NEED those, too, like I need air to breath. Who can create anything without that high, that passion, that love...??
I can see my whole history from here, dating back to junior high, like the ebb and flow of the tide. The worst time was years and years ago when I realized how being a parent changes relationships. I got lost somewhere. A half-assed teacher and a half-assed mom, not able to do both; and that my friends had a freedom that could not be afforded to a mom. It got bad and I put them all through hell with my self-destructive nonsense. John was working a second job so I never saw him...and he never saw me either. I don't think he even knew anything was wrong, just Chris being her usual moody self. So these...low tide episodes have always been associated with. ...loss of some kind, something, someone I really loved...as it is this time, too, I guess.
But lordy, it's so boring, so self-centered, so 'all-about-me'. Who can stand it? Who of my people who've seen it before want to watch a second or a third or a fourth? Nauseating. No wonder everyone is steering clear. I don't blame them. Jesus, I would, too. It gets old after awhile. All this, 'oh, I'm so sad/lonely/confused...' Gag. I, personally, have very little tolerance for that and I don't expect any one else, too, either.
But on the other hand, it is alluring...like the dark side, the dark arts... Good grief, do I actually LIKE going there? It is VERY alluring...all this introspection, this writing, like a drug all its own. And clearing stuff away like old baggage can be very focusing. Depression has long been the haunt of writers, poets, actors... Why is that? Why don't I just become an alcoholic like Oscar Wilde or Scott Fitzgerald or a drug fiend like Morrison (ick)? Alcoholism...drug addiction is something people understand, and, to an extent, tolerate. And they still love you, they encourage you to get help. Depression, the world's biggest pity party, is not tolerated. People get bored with it. They can't stand to be around you. I can't stand to be around myself either.
And this'll be my last post on this. I've been working on it for several days and I think I've just about covered it all. :-) In any case, it's now 11:52 a.m. and it's really time to get up, isn't it?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Jury Duty
They dismissed me! They DISMISSED ME!!! I honestly feel like I got cut from the audition!!!
In January, I got a letter asking me to report for jury duty on 3/9. I spent weeks discussing with others what I could do to get out of it. It wasn't so much that I didn't want to step up to the plate and perform my civic duty, but I was seriously worried about my ability to sit still and listen. "Have SATAN tattooed on your forehead before you go in," suggested JS. "Ooh, good idea!" Or I could just say, "Well, did the bitch/bastard deserve it?" ZC suggested: "I like kids, preferably 12-year-olds, but I'm not picky." LM suggested I dress up as Princess Leia (a la Tina Fey on '30 Rock') and explain how it wouldn't be fair to use the Force in the courtroom... Ha.
And so the morning arrived. I packed magazines, my laptop, several scripts, a letter that I needed to answer, and my cellphone (on silent, of course). A caffeine-free Diet Coke, several of John's cookies, a small bag of raisins, and a cup of coffee. My fear of boredom and wasting the precious moments of my life in idleness (which finds its origins in countless, pointless teachers' meetings....) is a driving factor in my life and god forbid I sit with empty hands and an empty mind for more than three minutes...
I arrived almost too late to get a seat in the over-heated 'jury storage room': "36 Hot Disgruntled Jurors". There were exactly 36 of us, and 36 chairs in a room made for 12.....
[An older woman speaks up and makes what was supposed to be joke about how she never got called for jury duty while she was working, but since she retired, she's been called three times. Her business? Real estate. She adds that she wouldn't begin to try to sell her house now....]
[Another guy made a general discussion-starting comment about how poorly Purdue had done the night before, but no one bit.]
We saw a video about the jury selection process called "Duty, Honor, Privilege" which featured a cameo by Indiana Supreme Court Justice Randall T. Shepherd. He talked about how jury duty may seem like an interruption in your life, but it was really a duty, an honor, and, yous guessed it, a privilege. But I would be willing to bet somehow, that he was excused...
[I can't believe all these people around me who have NOTHING...no book, no magazine... A couple do, but most don't.]
So then, after the vid, we're called out into the courtroom where it is infinitely cooler. I'm told to sit in chair #2, which is in the front row of the jury box. I see the punky young defendant sitting with his lawyer, who looks a little like KMac, at the table to the left; I see the very young DA sitting with a plainclothes officer (as evidenced by the shoulder holster gun).
The judge welcomes us and asks if everyone can hear. The acoustics are terrible, but I can hear. The lady in the third row can't. She asks why they don't wear mics. I marvel at this for a moment as the judge leans forward into his desk microphone to explain that they got a lot of things when they renovated, but getting them individual lapel mics was not one of them.
[Hmm. It really is a beautiful room. Wonderfully painted. Lovely woodwork. But what about those brass-plated electrical outlets ten feet up the wall? I know they're ten feet because they're taller than our flats. What could possibly be plugged into those?]
[And look at those stained-glass windows. Wow. Lavender flowers. Hmm. Rings a bell. Where have I recently seen lavender flowers...?]
The DA is now asking individual questions of each of the jurors. Do we know him? A couple do. I don't. He asks juror #1 (beside me) a question which eludes me now. And then he turns to me. "Mrs. Schaefer? You're a teacher?"
"I used to be, yes."
When kids came to you with a problem, how did you decide who was right? Who did you believe?"
"I didn't believe either of them. I only believed what I saw with my own eyes and heard with my own ears."
He then said, "Would you be more likely to believe this policeman because he has a gun and a badge?"
I frowned a little, and I said, "No."
The DA moved on and through the process of some explanation and some questioning, we learn that the defendant made threats to his ex-wife and his ex-wife's family. The policeman and some other people were going to testify for the wife's family. The hapless defendant's only witness was his father. Snort. Some of the questions involved whether or not parents tell the truth even when their children are in trouble. All of the parents who were questioned along that line said that no matter what, they loved their child, but they would still tell the truth. Right. I watch too much news and too much Jerry Springer to believe THAT for one minute. Parents will say whatever will get their kids out of trouble, jail, detention, a bad grade. You name it.
The older woman in row three asked if they were going to introduce DNA evidence because she knew that was something she could believe that. The DA said there wouldn't be any of that. She seemed disappointed. I was, too.
The longer the questioning went, the more interested I got in finishing out the day. I noticed the defense attorney and his client whispering and gesturing towards the jury pool. Hmmm.
When the DA finished, we took our restroom break. I took a 'text message' break and consequently was the last person to return to the court room.
Next it was the defendant's attorney's turn to question us. He was very friendly and personable and I felt myself being 'worked on' by this guy's charm. The prosecuting attorney alluded to it being a family disagreement. He asked if we thought it should be in civil court or criminal court. Geez, I had no idea. He told us that real 'court room drama' wasn't like it was on TV and that he would try to keep his objections down to a minimum. He asked if anyone watched "CSI". [No, but I just saw "CSI Neverland". Would admitting THAT get me out of here?] He told us that there was obviously a family disagreement with a lot of 'he-said/she-said' and we may see some courtroom arguing. [Wow!] And then he asked, "Well, what if we took a vote right now. How many would vote guilty? What would the verdict be?" Well, I was all set to vote guilty. I've seen his type countless times and I absolutely believed he threatened his (ex)wife and her family. Guilty? Hai-ll, yes! We don't need a trial. Why is this sawed-off young punk wasting the tax payers' dollars with a jury trial????
So then the defense attorney finished his questions and interviews and both attorneys went up to confer with the judge. Can I take out my magazine now? Can I, huh? I've been sitting here doing nothing for the past 90 minutes. I've watched the guy next to me take off and put on his watch more times than I want to count. Please, it's just human decency to to allow us a chance to read or check our voice mails or SOMETHING.
Oh. Oh, they're calling names of the six jurors they want to stay....and, I'm not one of them. I'm not! Why? What's wrong with me? It wasn't like they asked me to sing or something....
They thanked us, promised not to bother us for another 24 months, and dismissed us--and I was on my cell phone before I got to the elevator.
Our judiciary system--one of the modern marvels!!
In January, I got a letter asking me to report for jury duty on 3/9. I spent weeks discussing with others what I could do to get out of it. It wasn't so much that I didn't want to step up to the plate and perform my civic duty, but I was seriously worried about my ability to sit still and listen. "Have SATAN tattooed on your forehead before you go in," suggested JS. "Ooh, good idea!" Or I could just say, "Well, did the bitch/bastard deserve it?" ZC suggested: "I like kids, preferably 12-year-olds, but I'm not picky." LM suggested I dress up as Princess Leia (a la Tina Fey on '30 Rock') and explain how it wouldn't be fair to use the Force in the courtroom... Ha.
And so the morning arrived. I packed magazines, my laptop, several scripts, a letter that I needed to answer, and my cellphone (on silent, of course). A caffeine-free Diet Coke, several of John's cookies, a small bag of raisins, and a cup of coffee. My fear of boredom and wasting the precious moments of my life in idleness (which finds its origins in countless, pointless teachers' meetings....) is a driving factor in my life and god forbid I sit with empty hands and an empty mind for more than three minutes...
I arrived almost too late to get a seat in the over-heated 'jury storage room': "36 Hot Disgruntled Jurors". There were exactly 36 of us, and 36 chairs in a room made for 12.....
[An older woman speaks up and makes what was supposed to be joke about how she never got called for jury duty while she was working, but since she retired, she's been called three times. Her business? Real estate. She adds that she wouldn't begin to try to sell her house now....]
[Another guy made a general discussion-starting comment about how poorly Purdue had done the night before, but no one bit.]
We saw a video about the jury selection process called "Duty, Honor, Privilege" which featured a cameo by Indiana Supreme Court Justice Randall T. Shepherd. He talked about how jury duty may seem like an interruption in your life, but it was really a duty, an honor, and, yous guessed it, a privilege. But I would be willing to bet somehow, that he was excused...
[I can't believe all these people around me who have NOTHING...no book, no magazine... A couple do, but most don't.]
So then, after the vid, we're called out into the courtroom where it is infinitely cooler. I'm told to sit in chair #2, which is in the front row of the jury box. I see the punky young defendant sitting with his lawyer, who looks a little like KMac, at the table to the left; I see the very young DA sitting with a plainclothes officer (as evidenced by the shoulder holster gun).
The judge welcomes us and asks if everyone can hear. The acoustics are terrible, but I can hear. The lady in the third row can't. She asks why they don't wear mics. I marvel at this for a moment as the judge leans forward into his desk microphone to explain that they got a lot of things when they renovated, but getting them individual lapel mics was not one of them.
[Hmm. It really is a beautiful room. Wonderfully painted. Lovely woodwork. But what about those brass-plated electrical outlets ten feet up the wall? I know they're ten feet because they're taller than our flats. What could possibly be plugged into those?]
[And look at those stained-glass windows. Wow. Lavender flowers. Hmm. Rings a bell. Where have I recently seen lavender flowers...?]
The DA is now asking individual questions of each of the jurors. Do we know him? A couple do. I don't. He asks juror #1 (beside me) a question which eludes me now. And then he turns to me. "Mrs. Schaefer? You're a teacher?"
"I used to be, yes."
When kids came to you with a problem, how did you decide who was right? Who did you believe?"
"I didn't believe either of them. I only believed what I saw with my own eyes and heard with my own ears."
He then said, "Would you be more likely to believe this policeman because he has a gun and a badge?"
I frowned a little, and I said, "No."
The DA moved on and through the process of some explanation and some questioning, we learn that the defendant made threats to his ex-wife and his ex-wife's family. The policeman and some other people were going to testify for the wife's family. The hapless defendant's only witness was his father. Snort. Some of the questions involved whether or not parents tell the truth even when their children are in trouble. All of the parents who were questioned along that line said that no matter what, they loved their child, but they would still tell the truth. Right. I watch too much news and too much Jerry Springer to believe THAT for one minute. Parents will say whatever will get their kids out of trouble, jail, detention, a bad grade. You name it.
The older woman in row three asked if they were going to introduce DNA evidence because she knew that was something she could believe that. The DA said there wouldn't be any of that. She seemed disappointed. I was, too.
The longer the questioning went, the more interested I got in finishing out the day. I noticed the defense attorney and his client whispering and gesturing towards the jury pool. Hmmm.
When the DA finished, we took our restroom break. I took a 'text message' break and consequently was the last person to return to the court room.
Next it was the defendant's attorney's turn to question us. He was very friendly and personable and I felt myself being 'worked on' by this guy's charm. The prosecuting attorney alluded to it being a family disagreement. He asked if we thought it should be in civil court or criminal court. Geez, I had no idea. He told us that real 'court room drama' wasn't like it was on TV and that he would try to keep his objections down to a minimum. He asked if anyone watched "CSI". [No, but I just saw "CSI Neverland". Would admitting THAT get me out of here?] He told us that there was obviously a family disagreement with a lot of 'he-said/she-said' and we may see some courtroom arguing. [Wow!] And then he asked, "Well, what if we took a vote right now. How many would vote guilty? What would the verdict be?" Well, I was all set to vote guilty. I've seen his type countless times and I absolutely believed he threatened his (ex)wife and her family. Guilty? Hai-ll, yes! We don't need a trial. Why is this sawed-off young punk wasting the tax payers' dollars with a jury trial????
So then the defense attorney finished his questions and interviews and both attorneys went up to confer with the judge. Can I take out my magazine now? Can I, huh? I've been sitting here doing nothing for the past 90 minutes. I've watched the guy next to me take off and put on his watch more times than I want to count. Please, it's just human decency to to allow us a chance to read or check our voice mails or SOMETHING.
Oh. Oh, they're calling names of the six jurors they want to stay....and, I'm not one of them. I'm not! Why? What's wrong with me? It wasn't like they asked me to sing or something....
They thanked us, promised not to bother us for another 24 months, and dismissed us--and I was on my cell phone before I got to the elevator.
Our judiciary system--one of the modern marvels!!
Dream Theme: Traveling
I dreamed that we were on one of our long traveling vacations. I had let Mom drive so I could sleep and when I woke up, we were on a road that was nothing but a sand path...with puddles. I was a little aggravated with her for getting us lost, but I took over the driving and plowed forward until we got to some better quality roads. We followed the road we were on and ended up driving into the underground parking garage of a large urban, but very modern library.
I tried to ask library patrons and staff where we were, but I don't remember anyone exactly answering the question. All I knew is that we were out west somewhere, as evidenced by the reddish brown cast of the sand and soil.
I looked out the window--I was very high up--I saw the road we needed to be on: a cliffside road that ran along the...Columbia (?) River.
I tried to hurry everyone to the car, saying, "C'mon, we've only put in 30-40 miles today. We need to get going." Mom got mad at me then because we'd done more than that. I'd been asleep so how would I know?
End of dream. What does it mean? What does it mean?
I tried to ask library patrons and staff where we were, but I don't remember anyone exactly answering the question. All I knew is that we were out west somewhere, as evidenced by the reddish brown cast of the sand and soil.
I looked out the window--I was very high up--I saw the road we needed to be on: a cliffside road that ran along the...Columbia (?) River.
I tried to hurry everyone to the car, saying, "C'mon, we've only put in 30-40 miles today. We need to get going." Mom got mad at me then because we'd done more than that. I'd been asleep so how would I know?
End of dream. What does it mean? What does it mean?
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Sunday Night
Okay, I have to write or it might get worse... Is it like a cold that will go away? Or will it just get worse and worse until...until what? Can I just see myself through it? Right now, it's a plateau, a flat tabletop plain. Yeah, a mesa! That's what it is. It escalated for awhile, but now it's flattened out some. Whether it gets better or worse depends on what I do about it, I suppose....or what happens. It doesn't feel real. Nothing feels normal. Everything feels forced. It's ick.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Communication in the 21st Century*: Not Always Better in Writing
So, I'm trying to work up the courage to ask John about going somewhere over Spring Break. The boys don't often have Spring Break at the same time as IPS, but this time they do. We talked early on about going somewhere with Coles, but that was before Job Abandonment. So now, Rachelle is asking if this is really going to happen and I'm trying to find a way to broach the subject with John.
I'm talking with Rachelle, alternately texting her cell, leaving her voice messages, and Chatting on Facebook. Charlie is in the Family Room on the computer. I notice that he logs on to FaceBook, so I Chat him: "Charlie, go tell Dad to log onto FaceBook Chat."
Charlie comes in and stands next to me in the Living Room, where I sit with my laptop to yell, "DAD?! Can you hear me?" He looks down at me when an affirmative answer echoes back. "Okay," he yells back, "just checking." He then returns to his own computer in the Family Room.
I finally yell in to John, "Get on FaceBook Chat. I want to talk to you."
"Okay," he responds, "but there's something wrong with this picture...."
"Told ya!" yells Charlie from the Family Room.
Here is the transcript of the texting:
Christine: I'm talking with Rachelle and I want to talk to YOU about going somewhere over Spring Break. To Cincinnati. There's some great museums down there....
H. John: So...
Christine: So I found a great hotel up near Cincy that's only $45 a night.... We could stay two nights and see the museums...maybe visit the waterfront, see the Underground Railroad Musuem....
H. John: oh boy the underground railroad museum...Why is a great hotel only $45?
Christine: It'd be cool, I think... It's the national center... Here's the link. Look at the hotel: http://www.orbitz.com/App/shared/pagedef/results/hotelDetailsStandalone.jsp?z=37c&r=b6&z=37d&r=b7&lastPage=interstitial
H. John: Is the Pete Rose casino there open?
Christine: I don't know. Seriously, what do you think? Did you look at the link?
H. John: What about the Marge Schott museum? I'd like to go there.
Christine: It's LaQuinta Inn. We've never stayed at one of those before, but it got good reviews. I don't know!!!
H. John: Is it bilingual?
Christine: I don't know...Zach Cass's status is: "Tonight, a comedian died in New York." He talks about the glowing blue penis....
H. John: Yeah, impressive, and he multiplied himself to make love with his wife...
Christine: What a concept.
H. John: She was pissed! Because he was also in the other room doing something else.
Christine: What was he doing?
H. John: I forget. He was solving a problem in another universe in another dimension.
Christine: Oh. I thought maybe he was schtupping someone else.... Did you look at the hotel link? March 31-April 2. Two nights? Indoor pool. Coles are going.
H. John: theoretically he could do that, but he, at that point, had a major disconnect with the human populace
Christine: Would you get on subject please....
H. John: nothing showed up in my hotel link no info no nothing
Christine: I don't care about the glowing blue penis man. http://www.orbitz.com/App/shared/pagedef/results/hotelDetailsStandalone.jsp?z=37c&r=b6&z=37d&r=b7&lastPage=interstitial
H. John: exactly, that was Dr. Manhattan's problem this is just the orbitz page
Christine: Okay. I see that it doesn't go there... Well, will you take my word for it?
H. John: for what? I was in an alternate universe.
Christine: OMG, why do I even talk to you???
H. John: That's what I want to know!
Christine: Don't make me come in there....
H. John: Do you realize how absurd this is!
Christine: What is?
H. John: SEE!!!! All I know I'm not writing right now of things that matter with words that must be said. By the way. I just finished my chapter, nynah! and I'm starting to nit pick.
STATUS: "H is finished with Chapter 9. Tomorrow he will nit pick and revise."
**And this entry is dedicated to Terri, because she thinks that the way I interact with my family is so fascinating. Right.
I'm talking with Rachelle, alternately texting her cell, leaving her voice messages, and Chatting on Facebook. Charlie is in the Family Room on the computer. I notice that he logs on to FaceBook, so I Chat him: "Charlie, go tell Dad to log onto FaceBook Chat."
Charlie comes in and stands next to me in the Living Room, where I sit with my laptop to yell, "DAD?! Can you hear me?" He looks down at me when an affirmative answer echoes back. "Okay," he yells back, "just checking." He then returns to his own computer in the Family Room.
I finally yell in to John, "Get on FaceBook Chat. I want to talk to you."
"Okay," he responds, "but there's something wrong with this picture...."
"Told ya!" yells Charlie from the Family Room.
Here is the transcript of the texting:
Christine: I'm talking with Rachelle and I want to talk to YOU about going somewhere over Spring Break. To Cincinnati. There's some great museums down there....
H. John: So...
Christine: So I found a great hotel up near Cincy that's only $45 a night.... We could stay two nights and see the museums...maybe visit the waterfront, see the Underground Railroad Musuem....
H. John: oh boy the underground railroad museum...Why is a great hotel only $45?
Christine: It'd be cool, I think... It's the national center... Here's the link. Look at the hotel: http://www.orbitz.com/App/shared/pagedef/results/hotelDetailsStandalone.jsp?z=37c&r=b6&z=37d&r=b7&lastPage=interstitial
H. John: Is the Pete Rose casino there open?
Christine: I don't know. Seriously, what do you think? Did you look at the link?
H. John: What about the Marge Schott museum? I'd like to go there.
Christine: It's LaQuinta Inn. We've never stayed at one of those before, but it got good reviews. I don't know!!!
H. John: Is it bilingual?
Christine: I don't know...Zach Cass's status is: "Tonight, a comedian died in New York." He talks about the glowing blue penis....
H. John: Yeah, impressive, and he multiplied himself to make love with his wife...
Christine: What a concept.
H. John: She was pissed! Because he was also in the other room doing something else.
Christine: What was he doing?
H. John: I forget. He was solving a problem in another universe in another dimension.
Christine: Oh. I thought maybe he was schtupping someone else.... Did you look at the hotel link? March 31-April 2. Two nights? Indoor pool. Coles are going.
H. John: theoretically he could do that, but he, at that point, had a major disconnect with the human populace
Christine: Would you get on subject please....
H. John: nothing showed up in my hotel link no info no nothing
Christine: I don't care about the glowing blue penis man. http://www.orbitz.com/App/shared/pagedef/results/hotelDetailsStandalone.jsp?z=37c&r=b6&z=37d&r=b7&lastPage=interstitial
H. John: exactly, that was Dr. Manhattan's problem this is just the orbitz page
Christine: Okay. I see that it doesn't go there... Well, will you take my word for it?
H. John: for what? I was in an alternate universe.
Christine: OMG, why do I even talk to you???
H. John: That's what I want to know!
Christine: Don't make me come in there....
H. John: Do you realize how absurd this is!
Christine: What is?
H. John: SEE!!!! All I know I'm not writing right now of things that matter with words that must be said. By the way. I just finished my chapter, nynah! and I'm starting to nit pick.
STATUS: "H is finished with Chapter 9. Tomorrow he will nit pick and revise."
**And this entry is dedicated to Terri, because she thinks that the way I interact with my family is so fascinating. Right.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Ben and Science
Now that we have survived the Science Fair (he actually got a C on the thing he turned in--two dead plants in a terrarium), we are moving on.
I promised Ben an iPod if he gets all As and Bs.
He told me yesterday that he was working hard on his grades, but he was still having trouble with Science. I know that, at 11, he's past the age of saying cute stuff, but these are worth repeating.
"'Friction'. 'Friction' is so annoying."
"And...'The Force of Gravity' gets on my nerves. When am I ever going to use that?"
Chuckle.
I promised Ben an iPod if he gets all As and Bs.
He told me yesterday that he was working hard on his grades, but he was still having trouble with Science. I know that, at 11, he's past the age of saying cute stuff, but these are worth repeating.
"'Friction'. 'Friction' is so annoying."
"And...'The Force of Gravity' gets on my nerves. When am I ever going to use that?"
Chuckle.
blues...blues
I haven't written for awhile. Have you missed me? I can't write when I'm sad...or, I shouldn't write when I'm sad... The years, nay, decades that separate me from those years of teenage angst are not so many, you know.... And Now is not nearly so bad as a year ago, when it was REALLY dark and I was scaring not only the people around me, but myself, too. Or...that first time...that was very bad. But it's 10:30, and I can't get out of bed. So many things that need to be done. So tired of talking and listening. I can't sort it all out. My biggest fear is that I'll disappoint the people I love. I already have, I know. My biggest fear is that I'll drive away the people I love. I already have, I think. I'm bored of listening to myself, so must they be also. When did I become so needy and dependent on the guidance of others? Where is my OWN inner voice? My biggest fear is that what's done will never be undone. It is, it isn't, it is, it isn't. Am I destined to battle the dark my whole life? What have I done here?
Hmm. Writing helps.
Hmm. Writing helps.
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