The first part of the day actually went well.  I always have a good time, admiring the sea creatures at the Shedd.  Sea dragons are incredible – they really look like some kind of fantasy creature.  And, they actually had some monkeys in the Amazon exhibit – they were unbelievably cute.  And, there was a river otter (a pretty good-sized female), but she was asleep (lazy otter, haha).  But, they did have footage streaming of her darting around in her tank, and it was pretty bad ass. 

Watching sea horses curl their tails together, like they’re holding hands…  seeing sharks for the first time since my shark dives…  being able to pass along useful information about the various creatures, because, to some degree, I’m in element…   

Despite feeling exhausted, I was having a good time. 

But, less than an hour before I got to the Shedd, I was rambling about how frightened I was.  And, I’m not talking about being afraid of kicking (I think I might’ve made it through the worst of that), and yeah, I do worry that I’ll start feeling sick, again, but that’s not what I’m talking about.  I ‘m afraid of living a life I don’t know how to live.  Because…  I got good at this whole scrapper, survival bit, and now…  even if I could be…  I wouldn’t want to be the way I was before all this, but…  I don’t know how to be…  whoever the hell I’m gonna be after.

It is scary.  But, I don’t have to know what I’m doing, right now.  As long as I’m not [email protected] it up… 

I’ve hit that window of the evening when I start to really get preoccupied with it.  This is when I’d usually break down, and make the call.  I can’t.  I can’t let that happen.  But, my stomach is cramping, and I can get lost in a stupid impulse, very quickly.  I can’t let that happen.  This will get easier soon.  It will.  It has to. 

I don’t feel well. 

I didn’t sleep until after 5am, today, and I probably won’t be able to fall asleep until well after midnight, tonight, no matter how tired, and beaten down I feel.

Thinking all the wrong things…  and feeling really torn between what I want, and what I feel a compulsion to do…

Just got a text from Ace.  He said he’d be around in an hour, and told me to be strong.  That actually helps, somehow.  I think I can hang on until then.  It always gets easier when we talk.  It has to get easier.  I feel so weak, and acting strong gets so exhausting.

I know I must sound redundant and whiny, but I have to get this stuff out.  

And, if I’m typing, I’m not dialing, or doing anything else destructive with my hands.  

Too many [email protected] promises…

"All the things we did and didn’t say…  covered by what we did and didn’t do…  going through every out I used to cope, to make the repetition stop:  what was I supposed to say?  Now I never leave my zone.  We’re both alone.  I’m going home."  (Elliot Smith, "Waltz 1")

 

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