08.08.2004

Defragging and the Space-Time Continuum

No matter when I sit down to write this, it's always later in the time box than I expect it to be. I don't know how the time passes. Used to be time didn't pass quickly enough, because I was always bored or sad or anxious or whatnot. But even though I'm still all those things, the drugs from the surgery have made my mind less cohesive. So I lose large chunks of time, whole conversations, and emotion is a word in the dictionary.

I'm actually kind of glad for once that I'm not involved with someone right now. It's hard enough appearing somewhat normal to my roommate/best friend and family. And they still don't see me as normal per se, but I'm not scaring them, either. I scare myself. If you're a computer geek, I'll explain it that way. I feel like my mind needs be to defragmented, except everytime I run the defrag my computer crashes. Will I have to format my hard drive and reinstall windows? Will I lose all the stored information in my brain? Will I remember my friends, how to do my job, how to tie my shoes? I remember those things now, but it's disconnected.

I'm a loser because I can't work more than a few hours at a time. Where's this month's bill money going to come from? I borrowed some from my family already, but I'm scared it won't be enough. I need to clean my room but it seems pointless, like voting. Does it really make a difference? Bush, Kerry, Fozzy the Bear... any of them will end up doing things we hate and we'll kick him to the curb next election, too.

Everything is a major effort. Not physically, but mentally. Eating, smoking a cigarette, reading, watching TV, sitting here typing, sleeping. It all seems pointless. I have no direction, no will. I'm a marionette with no one controlling the strings. How long before I fall down?

Listening to: "Running up that Hill" covered by Placebo, originally Kate Bush

alannablue at 5:29 p.m.

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