–Sometimes, I feel like I am swimming in a lake, with my head barely above water. That’s my life. And then I talk to my brother and I feel like my feet are tangled in something and it means my swimming is pointless. And I can’t decide if that’s fair or not.
–To put it another way, I think I’m always already listening to him as if the news is going to be bad. Even before he starts to speak. And it so often is either bad news or news I can’t understand. But I feel like it does ugly things to me, even if some great percentage of the time I’m right, to answer the phone in anticipation of fucked up things from him. I am making myself into the shape of a person I don’t like over it. And yet, how do you not think “Oh, god, what this time?”
–I used to think that, if only I could know and understand things, I could feel some control over them–that understanding would come with catharsis which would allow me to change and my life to change. But that’s not how it works. At all. Knowing is, really, almost nothing. Sometimes, it’s worse.
–His girlfriend’s mom is younger than me.
–I went to the park this weekend and gardened and hid in my living room and it’s not alone enough. I don’t want to see people. I don’t want to do things with them. And yet, again, back to the truth of things–you have to go and do those things and see those people because, as weird as it is to just pretend like everything’s okay, if you don’t at least pretend, then it’s definitely not.