02.12.03 My throat is itchy. Somewhere, last night, between the details of my dinner and falling naked into my bed... my heart started to hurt with too much thinking. Too much thinking is just too much right now. And then there was the morning... Cool and crisp. And I feel oddly different than I did last night. You know, I hate it when you step out of your car, pause in your walk to the building to realize how the muddy ground is so fucking beautiful when it is iced over, little blue-grey swirls... and the grass is gone from too many footsteps along the sides of the cement walk - and the sun is shining (always in your face) as you squint and are still walking - and you are just laughing, talking with Wanda from upstairs - unaware and infinite - and then the greater realization, the bigger picture it just fucking hits you... The realization that you are most definitely still drunk from the night before. Dammit. Mental note to head straight for coffee maker, do not make eye contact. But seriously, I look back over some entries that I make here and remember the girl that wrote them. Even in just a few short months she changes so but yet she never does. She's still a drunk who carefully takes thirty minutes for lunch so that she may leave thirty minutes earlier at the end of the day. The pills are still in various bottles in her sock drawer (or is it the t-shirt drawer?). She's still forgetful to the point of ridiculousness (she forgets to eat sometimes). Yep, she hasn't changed one bit. So extraordinarily ordinary. |
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