kluane.jpgthe sun is starting to go down. i’m listening to amy winehouse and trying to stop avoiding my essay. i set up a desk lamp, so for the first time my overhead light is off. the light is yellow and friendly.

a mason jar of cooling yerba mate in front of my keyboard…a deep restlessness in my belly…my dog curled at my feet on the blanket that covers my legs…

academic work inspires such fear of failure in me. i’m thinking a lot about that, as i struggle to finish a two-page paper on a play i’ve read, and aced.

i realized today that i pile on the stuff-to-do so thick that when i actually get to my schoolwork, i’m mentally and physically at the end of my rope, so that when these ghosts come up (my godmother, being incredulous when i told her that i was going to go back to school, saying, “that’s a lot of money to put down if you’re just going to drop out again.”) i’m totally unable to deal.

when i went out west last year, i was shocked by the ‘ideas’ of me that i encountered. the worn-out reputations of the hard-drinking rebel (who attended her stepfather’s next wedding with pink hair and angry tattoos ablazing) and constant screw-up that i’d thought i’d left behind.

i had, to some extent…i’d re-invented myself. i’d moved, and stopped doing drugs in the new city. broken up with my long-term, “stabilizing” partner to fall madly in love again, right away. i’d become the working, full-time school student…

but still, when it gets quiet and there is just me and my pets in this apartment, there are an awful lot of ghosts that wake in my belly, and swim up to choke me.

i come here today for comfort…feeling like i’m in battle with myself. hoping i will finally absorb a sense of balance…

wishing for someone to hold me and trying to be fine that i only have myself right now…

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