I'm still so intimidated when the great expanse of blank post sits in front of me on the screen, even so much later. It's been a year, or something, since I've written here, and I think all of my friends who are (were?) involved in writing in blogs here have since abandoned ship. Oh well.
Things
have changed a little bit.
I don't want to be the cliché and do a quickfire rapid status report of my life, but that's probably the best. Let's do words instead of short explanations. That's fun.
Graduated. Terrible freshman year of college. Moved out. No job.
There you have it.
This place is probably safer now that no one reads it, which sort of defeats the purpose of having a public blog in the first place, I suppose... But there's something to be said about keeping something public a complete secret, you know? I doubt rather that anyone will come back to these journals unless I say something. I cling to the past a lot. I like remembering old friend-type projects that were at one point meant to get us all closer together.
It worked, to a certain extent, but some are further away now than others, and a slingshot action has brought others closer. I think I like that better. I'm learning who I can trust and who will give me blankets and water when I've drunk too much and am vomiting on the lawn, and who will block me on Facebook when things go my way instead of theirs.
I must come off incredibly bitter. I really, really try not to be.
Quite a lot's happened in the past year, like I said.
Jessie just said to me from the bottom bunk, "Hannah! Black people can vote! Isn't that
splendid?!"
She's crazy, but she's also my best friend. Though sometimes I feel I want to throw her from a cliff (that isn't often. Normally I rectify such feelings by staring.) I really think that I would not have ever been able to make it through last winter. I was on a sure path of self-destruction, spurred on by a choked and mottled self-worth and the aftermath of what I intended to be a clean breakup. I lost around twenty pounds and picked up a few unsavoury habits, retreated into my blankets and proceeded to fail three classes, all after cutting my hair pixie short, because I hated myself.
I wonder these days if I still hate myself, because while I haven't slipped again into sink-into-the-ground clinical depression (yet) I keep waiting to do it. For the precipice. The abyss and I are good friends, and it was Jessie who unwittingly pulled me back from it before. I wonder if she'll do it again, if she knows what she's doing when she does. I think she probably knows. Our friendship is weird like that. She always knows.
I'm tired. I wonder when I'll feel awake again.
