April 1, 1998

Not Funny

Okay. I'm not funny. *wry grin* Thought about doing an April Fool's Day entry with me moving down to San Jose and just living off the Horde for a while and bumming around and just writing, listening to music and it was just so wrong, I couldn't write it. Wasn't really funny, you know? Too much wrong with the scenario given how I'm now built.

Spent most of the day just in my office, avoiding being a Fool and other people. I usually hate April Fool's because it's so completely based on non-consensual embarrassment, in some ways. Or some people play it that way, and that hurts a lot.

It's funny. Got completely released from any obligation on the doomed fire project, so that's good. Got started on some really solid projects for the next few days, before the surgery. I feel a little like I'm going to be hitting a wall on that day. Scared, a little. My energies just draining from that.

It's so odd. Mark is so important to me, but I don't know how to proceed with him, with letters to him, with any communication with him any more. I haven't the energy to supply hope for him any more. I just... it's so hard to face a letter with no hope, no happiness, so little positive about his life and try and generate something that is positive, something that I can feel at all good about. So it just sits there, and I look at it and I'm having to work so hard to just figure out where my life is going, where what I want to do will go, where all the positives are that'll help me out, and it's like running across someone that's begging when all I have is a dollar in my pocket and they look so much worse off than even I am. But it's the only dollar I've got.

It's just so damned easy, for me, right now, to slide back into that depression, to just say that there's nothing worth doing, and here he is saying that, perhaps in not so many words, but in ways that tug at my need to figure *something* out. To help. To hold.

No one else around me, anymore, has *needs*. No one yanks at me or my energies anymore, and it's been good in so many ways, in that it's given me the room to just be for a while.

I miss Carl and the Horde, actually. Probably going to miss Bryant and Gretchen, Trip and Chrisber and Marith and all of them for a while. Bryant and Marith and Angie are going to be really keen and come and visit this coming weekend. That will be very good. I'll have to make Angie some of those portabella mushroom, spinish and cheese quesadillas and do something fun, cooking wise, for everyone else. They're driving up, so will likely not want to go out in a car to eat somewhere else. But I'm going to have to likely wait on everyone else until I heal up from the surgery again. That will be kinda sad.

It's good, though, to have some friends that I can just sit on a couch with and talk with for a long time, about everything and anything.

Well... I guess I was wrong.

A far closer look at the letter from Markleford shows me that he really is trying, and he's presenting ideas and thoughts and trying and getting some things to try and think about. It's my own attitude and my past that's coloring what he's said and what he hasn't said. He isn't really asking for help, just tryihg to exchange thoughts again. In some ways. I...

I'm just tired, I guess. And moody in and of myself and have a tendency to cry about the surgery and all the things that I'm having to do in order to lay myself up for a while and not be able to *do* anything. In In Nomine there is a choir of angels and even an archangel whose folks become dissonant, i.e. stop functioning as well as they usually do, when they're forced to remain in one place for a while. I feel, so much, like that.

I'm just so tired, too. My back, for some completely unknown reason is spasming at odd moments. Muscles protesting something that I'm holding within myself or something. I'm tired of a lack of real rest, perhaps. Or lack of real exercise. There isn't anything emotional cathartic aobut riding a stupid stationary bike for half an hour every other evening. Just worried, too much. Have too many things on my mind, too many things that I think I'm doing wrong, or have wrong or will do wrong. I'm tired of being broken. I'm tired of not just shining with the instant feedback of having done many things *right* the way soccer does allow me.

Okay... and tired of being regarded as broken. By anyone. But I also feel a lot like I just want to curl up under the blankets and just never get up, as there is just so fucking much pain at the moment. In so many things and ways. I miss Mark. I miss so many things that are dead and past and gone, and there's no promise that I'll get any of it back, no matter what I do or don't do. And I'm tired of that.

Just get to work with what I have, again. Survive, again.

*wry grin* Maybe the real April Fool is me. To disregard all that is lovely in my life for all the things that are broken or messed up or wrong and thinking that only the things that have jagged, angsty edges are the valuable ones.

Heh. Jay found my main journal page referenced in some article that was written in Australia. That's pretty keen. HA!! AND I've *FOUND* Jay's journal again! Hoorah!! I can enjoy stories about sushi again! Okay. That's enough to make any day brighter. Okay, that and a mention in Raven's April Fool's Day Update which reminded me of giggling like a five-year-old and stuff. So that's cheering.

© 1998 by Liralen Li.

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