Wednesday 31 August 2016

Help less.

Today didn't happen. Today was kind of a shoving-embrace-rejecting, double-Ativan, ghost-craving, fight-picking, uncontrollable-crying, miserable awful terrible no good kind of day. It was a day in which I made soup and bread for dinner after making soup and bread for lunch. I couldn't manage the day at all. It started up and took me over. It swallowed me whole, not letting me get a handle on it before flinging me off and I never did get control of it and so Ben said that's enough, Bumblebee and I've been sent off to bed momentarily, in clean pajamas and a freshly-washed face and I can't feel my chin or my elbows anymore but I also can't feel my past and tomorrow's going to look a whole lot better, he said. I asked him why and he said because you and Danny and I will spend the day at the park if you like and I told him it was going to rain. He said that was okay, that I'm not made of sugar but I wasn't convinced. What if I am? He smiled and said it would explain why I'm so sweet. But I'm not sweet, not anymore. And he stopped smiling and Sam came in and kissed my forehead and reminded me that being tough isn't an around-the-clock job. Sometimes you need breaks.  

It's a break all right, I told him and then everyone left and Lochlan came in and shut the door and stripped down to a t-shirt and his boxers and he said eight hours straight of sleep would help me and I said help me what? and he said he didn't know but I guess we'll see. I never liked surprises but I'm anxious for tomorrow nonetheless now. See you then.