There's a word for this...
Apr. 11th, 2003 01:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
framlingemWhat's that literary term for an impossible choice? There are two things I want to do, need to do... but I can't afford to do both.
There's the marine ecology study in New Hampshire, or there's a five-day ornithology course at McGill (at Mac campus), residential, taught by Montreal's premier bird people. (Rodger Titman and David Bird - love those names).
I love whales. I love birds. Both will get me out of the house. The Montreal one's cheaper, but the New Hampshire one lets me be on a boat, on the ocean.
*bites nails*
I can't afford to do both! Arg!
Had a fight with my mother last night. For once I didn't back down, didn't give in, refused to allow her to make me feel small. She told me 'if you don't like living here, leave.' So I did. I told her I loved her, went to the door (she tried to stop me, insisting she hadn't meant right then) pried it open, and made a dramatic exit into the night with her shouting at me to come back. I didn't go very far. I drove two blocks, parked around a corner so she couldn't see me from the house, and curled up into a ball, hurting too much even to cry, my throat impossibly tight, for a couple of hours. I wouldn't have come back... but I don't have anywhere else to go. I can't afford rent, even though I work all the time I'm not at school, and I refuse to lose my friends by imposing myself and my problems on them.
This is killing me. I feel I'm dying by degrees. I love my family so much, but a word from them can reach into my chest and pull out my hopes and dreams and leave them bleeding on the floor. I spent those two hours curled in my car staring at my wrists - which is strange, because that's the one way I've never thought about going. Too much of a coward even to kill myself. I can't bear the thought of someone finding me, after - I know it would hurt them. When I look forward to things because they'll take me out of myself more than for the events themselves, something's gotta be wrong.
I've been here before, and I'm so sick of it. I'm sick of shrinks and well-meaning platitudes and people who try to drug me so that I go through life in a happy haze. I'm sick of hurting and not being able to pull myself out of it. I'm sick of needing hugs and not being able to ask for one, of not being able to admit to people who care about me that I'm sad because I don't want to make them sad. I'm sick of the spacey days when I could break a toe and not notice. I'm sick of feeling like my Wall lj icon.
I'm scared. I don't want to do this again.
I think I'll go listen to some music now. Gimme the beat, boys, and free my soul. I wanna get lost in your rock 'n roll, and drift away...
There's the marine ecology study in New Hampshire, or there's a five-day ornithology course at McGill (at Mac campus), residential, taught by Montreal's premier bird people. (Rodger Titman and David Bird - love those names).
I love whales. I love birds. Both will get me out of the house. The Montreal one's cheaper, but the New Hampshire one lets me be on a boat, on the ocean.
*bites nails*
I can't afford to do both! Arg!
Had a fight with my mother last night. For once I didn't back down, didn't give in, refused to allow her to make me feel small. She told me 'if you don't like living here, leave.' So I did. I told her I loved her, went to the door (she tried to stop me, insisting she hadn't meant right then) pried it open, and made a dramatic exit into the night with her shouting at me to come back. I didn't go very far. I drove two blocks, parked around a corner so she couldn't see me from the house, and curled up into a ball, hurting too much even to cry, my throat impossibly tight, for a couple of hours. I wouldn't have come back... but I don't have anywhere else to go. I can't afford rent, even though I work all the time I'm not at school, and I refuse to lose my friends by imposing myself and my problems on them.
This is killing me. I feel I'm dying by degrees. I love my family so much, but a word from them can reach into my chest and pull out my hopes and dreams and leave them bleeding on the floor. I spent those two hours curled in my car staring at my wrists - which is strange, because that's the one way I've never thought about going. Too much of a coward even to kill myself. I can't bear the thought of someone finding me, after - I know it would hurt them. When I look forward to things because they'll take me out of myself more than for the events themselves, something's gotta be wrong.
I've been here before, and I'm so sick of it. I'm sick of shrinks and well-meaning platitudes and people who try to drug me so that I go through life in a happy haze. I'm sick of hurting and not being able to pull myself out of it. I'm sick of needing hugs and not being able to ask for one, of not being able to admit to people who care about me that I'm sad because I don't want to make them sad. I'm sick of the spacey days when I could break a toe and not notice. I'm sick of feeling like my Wall lj icon.
I'm scared. I don't want to do this again.
I think I'll go listen to some music now. Gimme the beat, boys, and free my soul. I wanna get lost in your rock 'n roll, and drift away...
