Time, Again

Dear whomever,

I woke up this morning violently ill, the room and sky were a dark black, and my mouth was coated with sappy bile. I made my way to the bathroom slow then fast, I looked down at our floor, our rug, where I had lied before (may never lie again) and decided I was not doing those things to myself anymore, so I brushed my teeth instead. It wasn't yet 5:30, and I cannot explain the awareness of how truly long the day would be. I had an open house at noon I remembered, and counted the hours until then. I was going just to say that I had went, the same reason I had been getting out of bed each morning. It's so embarrassing how terribly I cope, I try to think about it being worse, I try to play back the memory of the first time my mom explained suicide to me as a kid. It is a word thrown around in my family like money is, or forfeiting. I made coffee at about 6:17, tried not to think about it. I ate some watermelon, but mostly allowed myself to lay in bed for hours, feeling better then worse, better then worse. Holly texted me at 10:06 saying that she was coming to Emervyille. I felt spied on, and looked after. We got coffee and I was more than a bit of a mess, and couldn't tell if she minded or how much. We saw a white one-eyed dog, and I thought it meant good luck, and made her take a picture for Lizz. We talked about Lizz one time, in which I said something to the affect of not telling Lizz things for the reason that I do not want her to have to worry about me. I couldn't stop thinking about how she would have hated to hear me say that. Holly said something to the affect of Lizz telling her that if I don't find a place to live which I probably won't that I could stay with her for a while, maybe she too knew I would not want to hear that, maybe that's why she never said it to me. I told Holly I had to go, and although I was enjoying myself and like Holly a lot, I had the same grateful feeling of someone no longer having to endure my company. The weight of me, lifted. She dropped me off, and I drove to the open house. The absolute ordeal was precisely as much as a joke as I had anticipated it to be (with the addition of getting cut in line to try to get an application, followed by the swarmed landlord [who did not return my text] looking straight through me). I walked down the four flights of spiraling carpeted stairs and it felt just like a movie, dozens of 20-30 year olds sprawl in every nook and cranny of the hallways. Couples lined the floors, walls, windows, and banisters, all filling out the same rental application that I held in my under-qualified hands.

My gift to myself that I was giving for going through such an experience (again) was going to a movie at 1:30, I got home, changed out of my stupid shirt and earrings, and biked as hard and fast as I could for Albany. I was so dreadfully concerned with showing up later than I wanted to, that I arrived early enough to have to ask the employee if they were seating for Eleanor Rigby yet. I ate some leftover trail mix and an apple, and waited 15 minutes for the movie to start. It was devastating, really beautiful and relevant, and wonderfully acted. I held back tears through its entirety, and only cried once towards the end when she walked into the dark house that he had just finished packing up, and all she could see were flashbacks of how it looked before, with their belongings, and decorations, and light, and life. I biked home very fast and hard, it went by 5 times as brisk as getting there, although probably took a longer amount of time. I felt like I understood everything, as I wove between cars on San Pablo. I wasn't so much feeling this way because I felt homeless, but because I felt hopeless, and I truly wondered how many times over I would have to learn the undeniably identical lesson. The lesson of leaving. 77 times, I thought to myself, then realized that was not even what the bible was talking about. Might as well have been I guess. I got home and walked into the living room, all that I could comprehend was Austin's plastic container and my eyes swelled big, but I was too empty to cry. I glanced at all of the applications I would not fill out. I wanted to talk to Lizz, I wanted to tell her that I was worse than she thought. Just about every day I think about calling her and having to "ruin her fun", but cannot bear the idea, usually write instead. I look at my phone and Jillian is getting a storage unit with Austin, and they are car shopping. I think about my hour and a half phone conversation with Alex last night and wonder when her and I will talk again, and if it would be today, and if it would help (either of us). She told me that times like these are when you have to keep your loved ones close, so they can do what they are meant to. I agreed, saying that this is really their time to shine, I didn't mean it, I wanted everyone gone, far away, and happy.