The dreams have been getting worse and worse. I hope that's a good thing. I've been isolating myself in my blankets because having someone else in the bed is too much sometimes. I feel like I owe him something and we both know I don't. So it helps me to be isolated, but I am also lonely. Maybe I should trudge through the inside out feeling? When I get close to someone physically or emotionally I feel like I'm being torn out through my birth canal. Vagina, vagina, genitals are not words we should be afraid of. I miss crowds but I freeze in them. This town is full of fear. Everyones' face is plastered with it. Sometimes I tell myself that that is a construct of my own abuse talking but I think I know better than that.
It's funny to me now, but sad. Because the mountains are right there, and the ocean is right there and I don't think many people care. They look at the sidewalk and go through life one step at a time. Which I think sometimes should be admired as I am not very good at it; my neck hurts when I look at the sidewalk and I want to lift my head even if it's to look at gross things, but of course like anyone the gross things make me cry, and it's hard to cry if you've been told it's a bad thing to do. It's not a bad thing to do. I feel like it clears out the spots I see in my eyes. On days I cry, I don't see spots.
I've been angry a lot lately. I wake up so stiff I want to punch a hole in the wall, but then the cold air would have an even easier time getting in. I feel guilty for the things that bring me the most pleasure. I don't think life should be so cruel for anyone. I'll keep trying to make it easy for me and for others.
We learned that the pilgrims in Jamestown ate corpses and excrement rather than going to the nearby "savage" indians for help. One man even killed his wife while she slept and ate her. I don't feel like most people have changed much since then.
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