drunkencynic's Diaryland Diary


something is not right

Today as I was getting in the car to drive home from rehearsal, I stuck my key in the ignition and wiggled it. And wiggled it. And jiggled the steering wheel. And yelled obscenities. And cried.

And then realized that my parents had switched vans on me.

Apparently Mike is going around infecting everyone with the idea that I'm totally obsessed with him and want him to meet my parents and marry me, or something. It makes me sick. I've decided to either become a nun, or a lesbian.

I wish I had the strength to be extreme. Extremely obese, extremely anorexic, extremely depressed, extremely optimistic, extremely something. I just flop from one to the next. I want to be constant, I want to alarm people. I feel like there is something wrong with me, but the warning signs just aren't there.

As we were rehearsing the dance that was haphazardly stuck in the play, we are supposed to walk in circles clockwise, and then counterclockwise, in several small groups. My group was counterclockwising while everyone else was clockwising. It wasn't my fault. I don't know which way is up, so why would I try to lead? Michael yelled at me. "Clockwise, which is the opposite of where Sarah's group is going." Then, later, as we were rehearsing the same part, he yelled out, "Is Sarah going the right way?" And then in another part, I am leading a big line of women, and he was frantically yelling, "Left, Sarah, left!" Which was of course the direction I was going. I lost all taste for the dance in my urge to stand there and scream, "What direction does this look like to you!?"

When I got home, I sat in my car and cried. Everything is wrong. Everything is a mess.

I still have almost irreversible desires to have contact with Thomas. Any contact. I am at the point where I would go to the coffee shop just so I could sit there and fume while he was nearby. I don't know why I am like this. I have come up with the following explanations:

You know how they say you'll always be infatuated with your first? Well, he was more like my first than my first was. He was second. A very close second. We're talking sex every day for six months. Sometimes a few times a day. We spent so much time together. I still find myself magnetically physically attracted to him. He is not the most physically attractive guy in the world, yet I'm drawn to him like a moth to a flame. I cannot stop thinking about his body, his face, everything. It's disgusting. I feel so powerless.

Okay...next is...I was thrown over by him. Even though I was the one who dumped him, basically I was the one who was burned. I was rejected and this has caused an illogical fascination with him.

Another thought is...I have nobody else to be fixated on. JR having been removed from the picture, he stands alone.

Or maybe it's all of those reasons together. Great. A triple-plus threat.

I feel like my natural vivaciousness and optimism and hope is being opressed by a gray haze. It's the same way I feel when I'm artificially caffeinated (is that redundant?). That weird 'this is not natural, something is underneath' feeling.

The only thing that has really kept me going is the ability to articulate myself in this diary. So I can understand myself. Make myself laugh, feel better, get all of my pathos out. But lately I feel like my writing quality has deteriorated. I feel like I'm letting readers down by being morose and inconsolable. My only hope is that I can make myself feel better by giving life to the feelings inside me, and maybe I can be eloquent and poignant enough to be understood. I just want to hang on long enough to get better.

9:33 p.m. - 2003-09-05


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