Sunday, May 23, 2004

MAY 23, 2004 (SUNDAY)

Still trying to cope.

It feels as though it's so surreal, as if everything's happening to someone else. As if I'm not the one who's inhabiting my body now. As if I'm watching a movie, my eyes the camera that zooms in, pulls out, tilts at irregular angles to capture the precise moment when the first tear falls...

It hurts like hell.

I want this to stop, honestly. I want this to end. Maybe it's psychosomatic, but it's always so cold - even my fingers and toes are freezing off. And I can't seem to warm them. There's something wrong with this shell I'm inhabiting.

I want to be like Meia. I want white-hot anger. I want to be able to hit you, cry, scream, shout at the world. I want to run away. I want to avoid you like the monster under my bed. I want to stop crying. I honestly truly want to stop crying.

I'm pushing myself to the limit now. I can't stop to think, because if I think, then I will break down. And I cannot do that right now. So I am pushing this body to the limit, so that i can fall asleep without even remembering anything. And if this body breaks down, then the mind is next.

Aster tells me that I don't need him to live. I told her I'm not living anymore. I'm just existing.

I will live. Just give me time, world. Give me time.

And a lot of tissue paper.

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