i’m inside the mess of my bedroom inside the mess of my life crying the messiest tears wearing the messiest closthes with the messiest hair listening to unmessy music. the Music Maiden has on the saddest song she could find for me. Got to love that. I should be studying my American Lit. but I’m not. I called out of work because I can’t answer phones with tears stuck in my throat; I rescheduled my test because I’m too crazy, volatile, and messy to take it right now. I would cry my messy tears all over the paper because I just can’t help it. That’s what messy people do. And my messy heart hurts so much right now I can’t grab a breath to spare my life. I must have cried in my drug-induced sleep, because when I woke up and fearfully looked in the mirror my eyes were red and puffy and swollen. I’m flying off the hinges.
The last day to withdraw w/o academic penalty is in the second week of March, so I have a little time to make decisions.
I don’t know where to go with this. Eventually, I’ll have to look at my American Lit, I’ll have to find my misplaced breath, I’ll have to go to campus and mix in with the normal people. However, I know when I go to the Disabled Services Office to take my test she will ask me how I am and I will crumble and melt into a messy pile and then what will I do? How can I pretend then that I’m like everyone else?
The Music Maiden has my sad music on a loop, so every 2 minutes and 49 seconds it swings back and starts all over. What a sad metaphor for this life. It’s repititve. Our sadness just loops and swings back ever so often, and in some disturbing, sacrificial way, we find comfort in this. Despite the tears, how would we manage in other way without our misery looping around like the saddest of music?
My coffee is good, at least. Our morning now is somewhat unstructured, so it will be interesting to see how our food manages because we had decided to take a punishment and not eat at all today, or at least have only 1 thing. It would be a lot easier if we had something to take our mind off of food. Not that I’m thinking about it. I feel fat and messy. Out of order and control. And if I never ate again it would be too soon. We’re at the halfway point, I guess you could say. No one will know what that means, but I take comfort knowing it. And so the music loops.
There is so much shame to sink this deep. I shouldn’t be like this. How much therapy? How many hospitalizations? Yet we think about the same? Each time we think we’ll never come back to this space in our head, but we find it again, and the drive was quicker this time. It didn’t take as long. I thought we would be indestructable with school. It would be our savior. Give us focus. Take our minds off things. Help us avoid.
i need to stop talking. there are more of us here than need be and the consequences are ugly. something she should realize about the music. eventually, it does stop.
That could be because people get sick of hearing it and turn it off themselves.
how will you turn off your history. how will you turn off your looping? i already know.
I’m just trying to justify it. Make it less shameful. Make it appropriate. Make an unarguable case to stop the music. This is the last loop of the music before I sign off.
Forgive me. It’s just so dark in here. and I know the headlines. I know the rumors. I’ve predicted. I feel like I did last time. Shame drove me in, woke me up, drove me out. Shame drives me in again, like it’s pet toy that can’t make up its mind. Should I blame it? I can’t make up mine either. I only know how guilty, shameful, and messy I feel for being back here. is is possible for others to hate me as much as i hate myself