*
The past few days have been light. I've hit that disassociation spot again, that lovely I'm-here-but-I'm-not. I hear my parents lamenting each other, biting at each other, rabid dogs gone too long in the heat of the day, their hackles a high foaming rolling mess of white and blood. But I'm outside of it, I'm here but there's a wall, this barrier I've set between myself and all others, all tragedy and pain and circumstance are far beyond me, I tread not in the same universe. In mine there's nothing, there's no grief, no real happiness, no real feeling. It's unbearably warm and cloying but there also seems to be a ragged wind.
There are moments when the wall crumbles and they're the most vivid, euphoria-inducing things I've ever felt. Tristan holds my face as he kisses me. My mother smiles instead of her down-turned-not-quiet-misery expression, instead of her world weary life lost look. My father seems actually happy. Kay dies laughing at some comment I make.
And I don't want it, I want the walls gone and myself myself again. I wanted to fully thrive but I think that until I'm away from this hole of upper-middle-class “success” I won't be able to, and it terrifies me that maybe the damage is done and gone and over with and I'll never get back to myself.
I enrolled today, back at good old Nassau Community College, to take psychology courses from the end of December til the end of January, and I'm anxious to just get going, register, show up take notes ask questions participate think beyond the frame of the concrete and USE my goddamn mind, bring it back into practice. I can't handle the slush my intellectualism has become. I feel dumb. I do.
Way back, I told Trist what I'd been planning, going back to get my master's degree, and his reply: “Well, you were always good at school.”
And while, yeah, I'm a fucking dedicated student and take notes like I'm on uppers – I'm not – I'd like more to think that I'd be good at it, rather than I just know how to study and take a goddamned test.
The past few days have been light. I've hit that disassociation spot again, that lovely I'm-here-but-I'm-not. I hear my parents lamenting each other, biting at each other, rabid dogs gone too long in the heat of the day, their hackles a high foaming rolling mess of white and blood. But I'm outside of it, I'm here but there's a wall, this barrier I've set between myself and all others, all tragedy and pain and circumstance are far beyond me, I tread not in the same universe. In mine there's nothing, there's no grief, no real happiness, no real feeling. It's unbearably warm and cloying but there also seems to be a ragged wind.
There are moments when the wall crumbles and they're the most vivid, euphoria-inducing things I've ever felt. Tristan holds my face as he kisses me. My mother smiles instead of her down-turned-not-quiet-misery expression, instead of her world weary life lost look. My father seems actually happy. Kay dies laughing at some comment I make.
And I don't want it, I want the walls gone and myself myself again. I wanted to fully thrive but I think that until I'm away from this hole of upper-middle-class “success” I won't be able to, and it terrifies me that maybe the damage is done and gone and over with and I'll never get back to myself.
I enrolled today, back at good old Nassau Community College, to take psychology courses from the end of December til the end of January, and I'm anxious to just get going, register, show up take notes ask questions participate think beyond the frame of the concrete and USE my goddamn mind, bring it back into practice. I can't handle the slush my intellectualism has become. I feel dumb. I do.
Way back, I told Trist what I'd been planning, going back to get my master's degree, and his reply: “Well, you were always good at school.”
And while, yeah, I'm a fucking dedicated student and take notes like I'm on uppers – I'm not – I'd like more to think that I'd be good at it, rather than I just know how to study and take a goddamned test.
