…it continues.

So. The car got taken care of. The Allies meeting was ok. Jay was in kind of a sad, morose mood. But I knew that he would be. Dinner was ok.

Then I get home and start cleaning up my apt, in case Jay wants to hang out there tonite. I sat down to answer an email, and I hear my door open. “Hello?” I call out. And I hear “[Echo]?” muffled by sobs and sniffles.

Homie was there. She needed to use the bathroom. She was locked out of her apartment because she had let a friend use it and they hadn’t left the key in the right place or something. She was in hysterics. She got a bunch of (all of, she said) rejection letters from the grad schools that she applied to. I was shocked. I can’t believe it. She’d be so fucking good at it, at therapy or counseling, etc. And I speak that from many view points. Just in comparison to people I know, how she is with me, just from our conversations. My heart breaks for her.

She just wanted to be alone. So I gave her a blanket and a pillow and she layed and cried on my couch while I straightened up a little.

I just…I don’t know what to do. I want to sleep. But right now I’m in the graphics design comp lab with Jay. He is doing something so he can make a print in the printmaking studio. I don’t mind being with him. I want to be supportive.

It’s just….right now, I’m realizing that right now I need time for *me* to cool down, ya know?

As I was sitting checking my email, I realized that I COMPLETELY forgot about my fucking poetry class. What’s with THAT? Like. Totally and completely. There was no “Gee, I don’t feel like it, so I guess I won’t go…” No. None of that. It was as if I wasn’t even registered for the damn class. It completely slipped my mind. I feel like such a fuckwit. I hadn’t missed a single class- NO class, in ANY subject- ALL frigging semester. My goal, my quiet personal goal, was to make it to every class, come hell or high water. In every subject.

I was doing ok earlier. I cut the other day, yes. And afterwards, I felt like “Ok. It’s out of my system. I’m ok now.” But. Maybe it’s not. I feel so…disgusting. Useless. Helpless. I want to curl up and sleep. I want to help my friends. But I want to be alone, too. I want to take time for me.

Granted, a few weeks, months ago, I wouldn’t even recognize that I *need* time for me. And I certainly wouldn’t think that it was *ok* to -take- time for me. But. That was then, and this is now. I SEE that I need time for me. I see that it keeps me….steadier. Stabler. Ok-er.

But I still don’t completely feel that it’s ok. I still don’t know how to take that time for me.