Disjointed and craving
I'm very restless tonight. I feel disjointed and a little wild.
I want to go out and get drunk, but I don't want to do so alone. Everyone that I'd want to do that with is otherwise engaged. Shannon's in Ottawa, Steph was swimming and then sleeping, Ian's at a concert in Toronto, Jer's busy and my housemates seem pretty mellow tonight. I don't feel mellow.
I feel good. But also exasperated with my empty life and restless to fill at least this one night with something that doesn't involve me crawling around inside my head.
I was in a good mood all day, mostly because this morning I decided I would be. I finally decided that this stuff at work shouldn't have the power to wreck me as much as it has. Not long before deciding on a good mood, I woke from a strange dream.
In it I was taking two iron plates from a high shelf, but they were very hot and burned my hand. I yanked my hand away and they teetered for a moment on the edge before falling toward my face. I swatted them to the side and burned my hand again. I fell to my knees screaming, but couldn't bring myself to look.
People were around me, looking at me. They couldn't understand what was wrong. Looking at them, I wondered if maybe I was over-reacting. So I forced myself to stop screaming and look at my burned hand.
The parts that had touched the iron plates were covered in hollow, ugly, white blisters the size and shape of golf balls. It hurt like hell.
I want a drink. I'm going to get one. Maybe I'll write more later.
I want to go out and get drunk, but I don't want to do so alone. Everyone that I'd want to do that with is otherwise engaged. Shannon's in Ottawa, Steph was swimming and then sleeping, Ian's at a concert in Toronto, Jer's busy and my housemates seem pretty mellow tonight. I don't feel mellow.
I feel good. But also exasperated with my empty life and restless to fill at least this one night with something that doesn't involve me crawling around inside my head.
I was in a good mood all day, mostly because this morning I decided I would be. I finally decided that this stuff at work shouldn't have the power to wreck me as much as it has. Not long before deciding on a good mood, I woke from a strange dream.
In it I was taking two iron plates from a high shelf, but they were very hot and burned my hand. I yanked my hand away and they teetered for a moment on the edge before falling toward my face. I swatted them to the side and burned my hand again. I fell to my knees screaming, but couldn't bring myself to look.
People were around me, looking at me. They couldn't understand what was wrong. Looking at them, I wondered if maybe I was over-reacting. So I forced myself to stop screaming and look at my burned hand.
The parts that had touched the iron plates were covered in hollow, ugly, white blisters the size and shape of golf balls. It hurt like hell.
I want a drink. I'm going to get one. Maybe I'll write more later.
