The Cleanup

Oh my God! I just woke up and it's 11:59 AM and this room is trashed and I don't remember anything that happened or why I'm still here, except I know that I flipped out and I'm sure they think I'm on drugs. (Now, how to make my nose bleed... oh god, it already is!)

And I need to go back to sleep... It is all still in my system. And I am so embarrassed.

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Susanna was so right. I do everything for someone to take care of me... I've been so much more fucked up than that... Why did this happen last night? Because I make it that way... in some strange fucked up way, I think I wanted it that way, and I hate myself for that.

I remember ChoirMan and my blue nail polish, PhysicsGuy and the broken bag... And the Tylenol out at the bar and slamming my head against the wall and slapping my face, and he said that he doesn't respond to threats. That's good perception because I am a threat.

I'm sure that by this time AIR7 and Scheisser hate me, or are so confused that I'll never be welcome here again, and I wonder if, secretly, I made it that way on purpose. I think I just need some water and some food... God, I hate myself.

This is so embarrassing!


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Okay. 2:43 and I'm sitting here alone, watching OLTL and I just found "the threat" and I feel like shit and have no money. And Blair is about to blow Todd's cover, but I don't think she will... not on the first day of the trial. Now I think that it's officially over. I crossed that line and then went way past it. God, I hate this...

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Okay. Later still, and the day has not picked up. It's 4:10 PM and I have 20 minutes until the shuttle comes, here on the steps of "Hammer" and at least I resisted my wrists-- that is definite improvement... And at least now it is ALL out. That I'm absolutely crazy and absolutely fucked up.

I don't know whether it is better to disappear or become an angel... I will have to play my cards very carefully to clean up this mess, and I must never bring up ANY of it again. I'll ignore it... We should all ignore that which makes us uncomfortable.

Now I'm choking on smoke... Fuck! How can I have absolutely no memory of writing that? Of telling him that? HOW could I have let that happen? Why are things always so out of control? Because I make it that way and because it is too much to hold back...

Maybe I should write another letter... And what about school? I should just go home and study... Wednesday I'll study all afternoon... I can't believe ChoirMan found out about the new voice teacher, but I'm glad he did... and I'm glad that I didn't tell him... Now it seems like I'm capable of holding things back... "Suzanne" in my ears... I want to sail now...

It's getting cold and it's making me happy... I guess... Some guy just walked past me with no shirt on. Is he fucking insane? You are... You are... How could you have done that to yourself? And I wonder what AIR7 will have to say about it tomorrow. But I hate all of this pretending and I hate that I feel such defeat, such desperate defeat.

Was this it? Did I have my "Five Week" breakdown? What was five weeks ago? That would put me at around September 8th. Right when school was starting... What was I doing then? Well, I wasn't writing in here, so that probably means that I wasn't breaking down, so the theory doesn't stick... Oh yeah-- I was mad at GoldenFinch. That seems SO long ago... (Who knows where the time goes?)

I just missed the shuttle. Now I have another twenty minutes to wait... But this is not frantic (It was last night, what do you mean?) It is resigned and gray. Fuck him for pretending nothing is wrong!

Remember you used to freeze your fingers off? Well, winter is coming again... let the games being!

And he is everywhere all at once and I wonder how this has changed from those glowing twin suns (because now the stars are real). And I love watching the paper curl and burn.

There's no one left. God, there's nobody!