This too shall pass

I've been awake for several hours and I've got that hangover that comes of dim grey mornings. No alcohol, I don't need a drink for the headaches to hit me. When I was wee I used to curl myself up tight, push my head into a cushion and scream, muffled in the hopes they would ease but they never did. I have a craving for peanut butter, I'm tearing up my mouth trying not to think about it.

So let's not. I find it easier to type here than in a word document and my notebook runs along my burnt finger when I hold it the way I like. Notebooks paper cut. I once sliced my wrist on the edge of a particularly short notebook. That itches like you cannot believe. Not the point, or maybe a new point. When I'm stressed out beyond belief it shows physically and not always intentionally, not anymore. I'm stronger now, not as goddamn stupid. There was this huge pause between sticking my hand on the side of the sizzling machine and spinning round the island hissing through my teeth. That pause is the silent peace of a busy mind. It's the deep breath, the murmur that you're doing fine, and then you plunge in full and you can scream and shout and it would be ok but you don't anyway, you just keep on hissing and you let yourself cry even though you swore you were never going to let yourself cry and every time you tear up when it gets too much you gotta clamp down on your lip and tell yourself to grow up a little. The world is not some big bad wolf but don't go skipping through that forest without looking. Naive little bitch.

I used to be the one that everybody turned to, I won't know if I still am if I keep avoiding people and I am such a good little avoider. I practice my lies in my head while I shower and on the bus and before I go to sleep. I'm prepared for what you have to say. But they used to come to me and I listened and I soothed and I was maternal and I understood but nobody wanted to probe why I understood, how far I understood and I forget what I ever told you. I forget what you know and I worry it is too much and I'm sad that it isn't enough. Lying there, tired and pissed off at the world I tried to null the alcohol swirling in my system because the worst thing that can happen is the depression. It hits and I try to pull my skin off. I should have known something was up when she staggered in beside me in an old winnie the pooh jumper that jarred with her frilly thong that was trying too hard. My life was painted perfect by her. I wasn't allowed to have problems, like I have to be in love always and I have to care. I have to feel bad. So many rules for so many different people. Listening to her pulled me back too many years and I hate thinking about it. Anything I say about that time results in "I never noticed that" and I wonder if what I'm saying is the truth or if I was just truly unnoticeable. I know I'm not now. Somedays I try to walk, try to live without anybody seeing me and I can feel eyes on me. Strangers smile at me and I used to walk down this little road, university something and count the looks from the English students who had their class before me. Then I'd check in the reflection of a car to check I wasn't odd. Odd beyond my own control, I mean. Go away, go away but I'm vain and I need the uncomfortable glances. I need to know I'm worth looking at.

I'm starting new again come September. Another year with another class and it will be pointless like all my classes are pointless. It will be my seventh first year subject with my first two second year subjects. And I wish I could go back, I wish I could be in 3rd year like everyone else but I was weak and tired and I just wanted to get in. I thought it would take care of itself but my problem is I can learn it and I can read it and I can understand but I cannot speak. Je peux l'apprendre et je peux l'lire et je peux l'comprendre mais je ne peux pas l'parler. I want a revolution, I want a cause to fight for and I want to spin down those streets and find a hand to pull me close and let me know

it's just another morning before the world wakes up and I boil the kettle. Good morning.