24 February 2011

Blur

Time is a blur. A day can seem like a year and a month can seem like a week. I woke up this morning and I realized it was almost March. I don't remember February. Wasn't Valentine's Day just this past Monday? I need time to take a break. I need life to slow down.

I spent the majority of the past week not studying for exams. I listened to music. I stared at a story sitting on my computer screen, my fingers resting on the keys--as though I expected them to type without any brain involvement. I read Jurassic Park. I sat on the Michael Crichton website for at least an hour, reading essays he had written, reading things he had said about his books, wishing I had all of the books with me rather than just the five I brought from home, wishing Pirate Latitudes weren't the last.
I compiled a list of "take that!" songs dedicated to a friend of mine who dumped me before we started dating nearly two years ago (worst Saint Patrick's Day ever).
I designed a study for a class, fully aware that it most likely it will never be used.
I talked to two of my friends from high school and managed to get angry with both of them.

I spent the majority of the past week running away from my current reality.

I don't know how to tell my parents that I'm different... irreparably. I don't know that I'm even afraid they won't accept me. That would be surprisingly uncharacteristic of them. I've been practicing on people, a few. It only turned out badly once, and I don't know that it was entirely to blame for that falling out.

I feel broken.

An angel ornament fell off of my little Christmas tree into my printer. I now have to have at least 15 pages in the printer, otherwise the pages get stuck on the angel that I cannot remove. First I tried to take it as a sign that I shouldn't be a psychology major. I get the feeling now that if it means anything, anything at all, it means this. But that's probably because I feel broken. Like something is jammed. Like something is preventing me from functioning properly. The strange thing:
I don't think I want to function properly.

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