02.25.2003 12:25 am
blue piano part two

I wish I could stay there.

Skipped all my classes today. Told Erin and Nate to tell my acting III teacher that I was sick... I wasn't. I got up in the morning, and went and got food, and called my mother.

"How are you?" "I'm ... actually, I'm not doing well." "Oh? Well, you sound fine, so I'm not worried."

That was all. One vocal analysis, and no matter what text that voice conveys, I'm fine. Fine. It made me mad. She just wants me to be fine, and in so doing, shuts me out from talking to her, from explaining what's going on with me.

So after that, fully dressed, I crawled into bed. Bed like a cave, beautiful blue comforter, the weight of which connotes security, envelopment, comfort. Slept for hours. And hours. And woke up and went to the bathroom. And lied to Erin. I'm sorry Erin. It's just easier to blame some physical malaise than to admit that you didn't have the willpower to force yourself out of bed. You can accuse me of making a choice to stay in bed. Then you've either never been depressed, or you've come out of it and rationalized it to the point that you don't actually remember what it was to not be able to walk out your door. I couldn't even look at the room today... It was too much. Too much oppressiveness. Too much input, too much thought, too much distraction, too many reminders.

The whole of it is inexpressible. How can the space that is your home become foreign and threatening? How can learning, which I love, become frightening? Where does this panic come from? I lay in bed, staring at the wall, and I can't breathe. It's like there's too much going on for me...

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