between lemnos and the sea

yesterday was supposed to be chinese take out, and b side for drinks with the boys. instead i was all of a sudden horrified, and i swam into the depths of bed and darkness just wanting sleep to shut out the sounds of telephone calls going back and forth, my two housemates arranging the hours and conversations of the night. are you coming out? they ask. no, i say. i just want to be alone. i listen to food come and go, g arriving, c arriving, laughter and doors slamming. sickened and thrashed out under blankets.

i fit nowhere. spare wheel. unwilling to push self into social semblance. i fell asleep ugly and unwantable, utterly crushed under the sickly weight of the helpless self. i woke thirteen hours later.

i dreamt of nine girls and their father breaking into our apartment, starved and searching for food. i threw them down the stairwell but invited them back up. the house was then lit up with lights, children clamoring back and forth in the hallways. also: walking through a body turnstile made of deerhorn.

last night my great-aunt barbara died.

i woke with a confusion of voices replaying in my head. as if i was scanning frequencies. a welter of faces flickering past me. bright noising scummy bubbles bursting on the surface.

it seems that once again i have swum over some underwater edge, icy currents brushing my ankles. unseen depth. i've managed to collapse down into something without even noticing. j and i spoke this afternoon before going to wilson farms. all i can say is that i have become unsure of everything. it's all chicken-and-egg. no root cause. everything i own and am is ill-fitting and poorly considered. slipshod and cheap. an indistinct mote in a collection of other, dusty nothings. and all this time i thought i was doing fine?

i fool myself, every day.