hildeguardog's Diaryland Diary


speculative fiction

I feel like I'm on the verge of some kind of collapse. I know why, too. Lots of reasons, really. There's school, which is terrible for my health because it's the reason I smoke cigarettes and drink too much coffee and beer. And when I drink too much coffee and smoke too many cigarettes, I don't eat enough. Today was pretty typical of my recent diet: a banana, two clif bars, two fun-sized packets of mike & ike's, and the left-over tater-tot casserole from last night. I've been awake since 6 in the morning-- 18 hours-- and I still have two papers to write. They're gonna be shitty, I know, and I'm tempted to go to bed. But that's what I do when I feel like this: I go to sleep. It's a healthier reaction than drinking, I guess, but it's doesn't allow for the level of production I need to be at to do well in school and keep my job and my girlfriend and my friends, and to see my family and preserve my mental and physical health. I haven't done anything physical for the past month, since I started smoking again. All I think about are terrible things. I doubt my perception and have constant feelings of impending doom. I constantly envision a biker in front of my car when I turn a corner. I fear phone calls and text messages because they could be bearing terrible news. I look for outs on a minute-by-minute basis, causing me to fondly recall past relationships and wonder what went wrong, completely overlooking what I know to have gone wrong. I worry about the things I do and the people I hang around with. I hang out with people I don't particularly approve of because I feel that I should be in their good graces in case I turn out that way. I'm afraid to break up with my girlfriend, even though I don't want to anyways-- I fear what will happen if I ever do feel that way. And how I'll let her down and how I'll regret it, even if I feel it's the right thing. I worry that I'm isolating myself because I don't see my family enough, even though they're what I think about more than any other group of people. Like how I've never really been able to be there for my mom because I don't know how, and how I'm still wrapping my head around where she is right now-- how she got her story-book ending for, like, a month. And then it was gone. It is gone. Now. Right now. It's gone and it's not ever coming back. And that's terrifying in a way that transcends any kind of relatability. I mean, if someone's dog dies, I can relate to that. I've known dogs to die. If someone's friend dies-- same thing. It sucks, but it's relatable. How do I even begin to comprehend the pain and suffering my has gone through and will go through? And so I hide up north. Away from seeing anyone but my girlfriend on a regular basis. And maybe it's her fault for needing to see me all weekend, every weekend, but it's probably my fault because that's what I let happen. A girlfriend is another escape for those periods of time when I can't deal with more than one person. And it's horrible. Like Mrs. Eley-- Toby was put down in September-- almost two months ago. In my mind and in my heart, she's very dear to me. And what, no card? No flowers? No fucking random stop by her house to see how she's doing? After all she's done for me? Who am I? Do I even care anymore if I neglect everything I tell myself I care about? I don't even write things I want to write, I don't make music when I say I want to be in a band, I don't keep running when I say I want to run a marathon. What do people do in this situation, get a therapist? Play the game and try to fix themselves to live by standards that don't make any sense? On to homework and re-burying these thoughts.

12:50 a.m. - Tuesday, Nov. 06, 2012


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