I've been playing a kind of Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde game for a couple months now. When I'm out, I fake it. Once home, the effort of maintaining the facade leaves me exhausted, and everything I was attempting to ignore comes at me with double the vengence. Even more so when I try to sleep. I think my pillow now contains enough salt to kill every slug in my neighborhood. That's a lot of slugs... I often see them because they break into my house.
Today I had a moment where, as inconsequential as I am in this world, it seemed that someone had taken notice of my existence in a very small way. However, I was proven wrong. Turned out they thought I was someone else. And we were both embarrassed- he because of his mistake, and me because for once I thought I had made a small impression with merely my regular habits.
My life is a perpetual good-bye to objects and people, that often do not pay the least attention to my bitter, brief, insane salutation.
-Vladimir Nabokov
The other night I out-of-the-blue dropped a bit of a bomb. This was horribly difficult for me to do, which is why it took so long, but I couldn't think of anything else that could possibly work to convey what I'd failed at communicating in the past. It was the only hope I had; I suppose a last-ditch effort of sorts. I managed to make a blubbering fool of myself, though I'm only slightly embarrassed about that. Because it was important. Maybe one of the most important things I've ever done. I just hope that it being a little late doesn't make it all in vain.
Tomorrow: Georgia vs. Tennessee aka Service Industry Hell.
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