Discussions with Myself

April 17- Midnight Blue

         How can I sit at a computer desk, starring into escapism when I KNOW I'll be having to stare at that very screen into agony tomorrow, if I don't do some work tonight?

         How is it that I am able to quell the fear and put my figurative finger into the dam of tears to keep it from leaking, when I am two days away from potentially hearing some crappy university health center nurse tell me I can't have children?

         And how is it that my intellect and my emotions can be personality suitemates but neither one can talk to the other long enough for me to be able to put some words to this mood that I'm in?

         I wish I could reach into my chest and claw out whatever it is that is pressing at my spirit in just the right way to suffocate my desire to be productive and okay with everything. Yet it also sits in such a way that it won't let me wallow in the negative enough to just drown in it and wake up tomorrow on life number 2, 6, 50.. whatever one I'm on now.

         Pisses me off that I can't even resort to my tride and true depression right now.

         This computer is like absinthe. A great substance to help you slip into giddy, intoxicated numbness. However, if you get too much of it, the next thing you know your soul's watching the coroner zip the body bag. Hm.. just like I'll have to watch my professors zip my reputation and my chance of getting out of here with any pride into a manilla envelope on grade day. I must be on something because I just wrote that and read it again and don't give a damn.

         I find it sickeningly amusing, being the one for comedic timing that I am, that now that I just decide to take a break from school, to stop putting a chance at a relationship, and eventually a family, on hold, I may click over to that line and find out the stork hung up on me and changed his number, permanently. Again, I type, I read, and STILL can't get an appropriate emotional connection.

         Seems as if the suitemates have really decided to pull the silent treatment. How is it that when my emotions and intellect decide to be silent (something that NEVER happens when I want it) I'm the one left wanting to scream?

"Well-behaved women rarely make history"
-Laurel Thatcher Ulrich

         
          ** Image ID #424698 Unavailable **