much more than i meant to say
2002-07-09 ~ 3:34 a.m.

god bless america...

Blimey!!!!!

and a torrent of other words...

ugh.

this night is not going to end.

there is a boxing match in my head...there is even an announcer...and i am losing.

slipping, sliding....

and dammitt!! i forgot to take my meds...no wonder i am skitzing. Bah!

i forgot to eat too...but i'm not hungry.

i will make toast with butter and blackberry jelly and a glass of chocalate milk before bed. that'll do alright.

i have to focus...i have my appointment with doc in like 12 hours...

i have to drive there...i have to not freak out. i have to hold it together. no cutting, no killing, no swearing...there are rules! dammitt, there are rules. i know there are...but what are they?

talking to myself again...and answering, and then having a full fledged conversation that turns into an argument and i want to smash my head into the monitor....my shrunken head, yep....that's the one.

and where is the voice that soothes? where in my head is the voice that will fucking help me make it through another night?

it isn't here! that is the whole fucking problem!

things were fine until that voice went away. everyone was content and focused on work....work, work, work.

and then there was just a little explosion in my mind...and work went away like so many other things.

sarah is singing...Adia, and Adia reminds me of Jenna and Ashley...and the funeral.

The day/night before the funeral. The night I found out, I was frantic. News was sketchy, at best, and unreliable. She was just dead. This beautiful woman/child, who "loved me dearly but not queerly"...gone. I went to work the day after I found out. I didn't know what else to do.

You see, I managed to make it 6 years without shedding one tear. Not a single tear, I couldn't let one fall. That dam could not break. I had a list I kept for a long time, with all the names. Not that I would forget, but just to have it there in black and white. I quit keeping that list.

It took years to develop this shell, many more than 6. I would not be hurt, I would not be left alone, I would not be bad, I would not be any of the things that I knew deep down to be true. I had a system, and it worked.

What else was I supposed to do? College was a futile venture. Six years and well over a hundred credit hours later, I still can't make up my mind. "i wanna be a vet...no, a teacher. i'm gonna be a scientist. i'm gonna be a doctor, and save people. well, i am going to be a nurse and help people. no, i want to be a librarian. NO...I am going to be a writer! but i want all of this without going to class...because class scares me. i fall asleep and don't mean to. it is too crowded..." SHUT UP!

so...as you can see, college...let's move on.

I am saying much more than I should here, but fuck it...this is my diary.

I had to drop out of college when Terri asked me to move out. That was a bombshell...but I made it through, and went to work for UPS. I managed to get fairly buff, and have some fun before I started my next job.

I try to explain to you how I was as an agent. Ripped jeans, boots, cocky. I can be quite cocky if it suits me. And I worked like a dog to get my hands on the proverbial ladder. I did scut work for TM's far worse than me...and then one day Jay gave me a piece of advice. He gave it to all of the mentors actually, but I was the only one listening. He told us to always dress for the position we wanted, not the position we were in. That idea stuck. I gummed on it a while...and then made my move. Terri took me shopping, as I was not always as 'informed' as I might be now on these matters. I spent almost two grand on suits. Austin Reed and a few Ralph Lauren's.

It worked like a charm. It is a shame that it is that way, but welcome to corporate america. Prepare to eat or be eaten. How could I not get lost in that? Brand new armor...that is what I had. Another layer to my shell.

And that part of me, the part of me that can put those suits on and stride into that building and fix shit is still there...I just realized. Still there, didn't go anywhere...just lost the armor, all the layers.

Not chip proof...nope.

swirl...swirling down and around...

and ashley is dead...and i can't breathe anymore. it is too much, and i am starting to break. why? why take so much from me, from Jenna? no answers...

and if i scream at night there is a reply of blue silence... midnight oil? probably

so i went to work...and i stayed until all the armor was gone...and no one even knew i was falling apart except maybe you...but i couldn't tell you, couldn't reach out...couldn't risk passing the curse to you...and i was gone like yesterday's bathwater.

even in canada, i managed to hold it mostly together....even with shane, my wonderful shane.

home three days when the maternal parental unit called to give the news about kip. little red sports car, sharp turn and a big tree...bad combination.

another blow...

ah, but it is just now May...the year has just begun. bash me in the head with a baseball bat. somebody, please?

and i want composure...i had composure in my suits. have to stay strong there, cause you are the big mother fucker flying the plane. c'mon

spring slipped into summer...

i was sick a lot. things at home were bad and getting worse. ash got an apartment in austin and was planning to move without telling me? i panicked...

so close to the edge, please don't leave. i grabbed her leg and held on for dear life...i couldn't be alone. too much rage, too much anguish...too many voices. so i bargained, i begged...and it worked. she stayed, and luckily she isn't resentful because things have worked out incredibly well for her. but we moved into a house together last fall/late summer.

i had visions of happy people doing happy people things, and i tried to mimic it...but i failed at every turn.

fall creeped in...september spent numb, watching news. october and it was off to DC for the conference. forgot my paxil and was there three days when the first withdrawal symptons hit. worked the whole week...worked hard and very fucking well...schmoozed with the best of them. drank wine and gave toasts, and smiled and was smart...then home again.

not even an hour after picking me up, ash and i were fighting. i got sick then...mono...and months just rolled into one. the last day i actually worked a full day was some time back in november i guess? then january hit like a brick wall and i was a bug...splat! mom woke me up after one of my "mono sleeps"...told me to go look at my email. didn't even tell me what it was, she knows better. and there was my cousin in my inbox...found dead on the banks of a river down by houston. lovely...really, just fucking lovely. she was 15. she deserved a better life...she deserved a chance at life.

and then it was March...again. and people were lighting candles at the place where ashley was killed...and i couldn;t go. i wanted to...but i didn't...so torn.

and all the small tears turned into rifts. and i am afraid they can't be sewn back together...even by someone with the skill and deftness of my granny. and thus, my abbreviated downward spiral.

i took it as a kid...because i was a kid. as a teenager i revolted, rebelled...i refused to take it. and as an adult...i can only watch the movies of my life play in rerun mode while my brain deteriorates.

and i will not die here! not like this!

but i want to...but then i wonder if i am just already dead. but i can't be...

doc was right. i am desperate to feel the good things. i want them! but i run from feeling the bad. just like turning off my tear ducts, i turn that valve off and hold it closed with both hands. cause i don;t wanna be washed away...don't want to

but i am already in the water...trying to swim.

damn you for telling me that drowning was a peaceful way to die! damn you for telling me anything about death...you don;t know death! death is not your friend, you don't walk in it's shadow...it hunts you. don't be fooled.

i want to see a picture of the man who killed ashley. i never had the guts and brain activity to go to the trial or the sentencing and i am sorry to everyone for that, but i want to see him. maybe that will make it worse, but i don;t think so. i want faceless people out of my dreams...night dreams and day dreams. gone...poof, vanished.

wouldn't it be nice if it were that simple?

i have to go...need a coke and some smokes...and i should sleep, but i can't. i am giving up on that one i think. note to self: call the doctor and get ambien.

maybe i will get my very cool stainless steel shotglass and have a good finger of my scotch. the good stuff.

be back sooner than i really want to...cause talking to myself is something i know well.

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