Oct. 22nd, 2002

deliriumcrow: (Default)
This weekend, by and large, sucked. In every possible way.

So I exaggerate a bit…. You get the point though. This was *not* a happy Cate weekend. We went to Kingston, which was not in itself bad. We stayed with his parents, again not itself bad. We went to see Apples and Becky, which was good. And talked about M stuff, also good. And the next day I broke somehow, I don’t know from what, but I couldn’t remember who I was, who Remy was, where we were, what we were doing there, anything. For that matter, I couldn’t really see this world. Just winter. All white and dark like the trees were dying, trapped in a small room over which ivy grew too thick to escape, and roses, lacking any flowers, just thorns and dark leaves. When I tried to leave I could feel the scratches on my face and arms, still vaguely aware I was in my hall and Remy was trying to call me back from wherever I was. Two days later, and I still feel the blood, still can’t tell exactly where I am. It’s not where I was last week, and nothing looks quite the same. It’s odd, seeing only the shadows of this world and over it a strange one. I thought I knew all the wastelands in my head, but this one is new, and somehow more frightening than the more bleak ones.

I think the scariest part was not being able to speak at all. I tried, so hard, in so many ways, but I could not get my voice to move past my throat. Or my eyes, and the rest of my body was more or less useless. It would not move at all. Not unless I was totally alone in the room, then I could move long enough to flee. This has never happened before…. I wonder at times if I’m really at all sane.

So I stayed at home today. Trying not to feel the scratches that aren’t there, trying to find the pieces of me that scattered over land I can’t chart, painfully alone. There’s so much that has to be done before tomorrow, but I don’t care anymore. None of it even seems real anymore. When you fall into a world that’s just as real as this one, if darker and far more frightening, it becomes far more easy to question the importance of this one. Which one, then, is the “real” world? Which one matters? Do they both? Do the actions in one reflect those in the other? Or have I just completely fallen? And how do I get back home?

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