The other day I watered the plant I named after you; it’s in the kitchen now, on the counter. I think my dad takes care of them, which is weird.
I’ve had this idea for a book and I think it’s actually good, like it has potential, you know? I think about it a lot.
My thoughts get so choppy these days. Is it the early darkness? I don’t know how to keep my thoughts in check when I get lonely. I keep forgetting things. I’m so unreliable, or at least my brain is. I can’t help it. I’m scared I’ll get worse— I don’t want to go back to the clinic, you see? I hate this feeling, when it gets harder and harder to head to work, and the days mash together into one big fog.
It’s so cold in the house. In my room especially. My little sister offered to help me clean my room next Friday— I hope I can go through with it. It’s gotten so bad.
I’m reading a lot, listening to audiobooks. Feels good, that, like I’m intelligent and interesting. Not even to others but to me, if that makes sense. I like myself when I read. No, I like myself when I have fun reading. And the audiobooks help with the fog. I keep thinking about this book— I want to read it but something is stopping me. I think it’s because I want so badly to like it, because the version of it that I have in my head exactly matches the version of myself that I want to become at any cost. Does that make sense? I don’t know— I confuse myself.
I had a nice talk with someone who used to be important to me today. And I am important to her still— she’s known me since I was very small, and I know she adores me but last year, something happened that put a strain on our relationship, something that completely shattered me. I don’t think things can go back to how they were for me, you know? She feels like a stranger, even though I’m capable of talking to her. And the anger won’t still. It’s dull and quieter, but it’s there. That’s okay, though. It’s still nice.
I burned my hand on the oven tonight. It’s alright, it doesn’t hurt.
Maybe it’s time I go to sleep. I sleep too little. Can barely get through the night. I don’t understand. And I can’t dance. That’s not true— I dance a lot, I think I even danced this morning. It’s just that right now is forever and right now I can’t dance. I’m tired and I feel foggy. I’ll go to bed soon.