Chapter One
Wow, is it 3:00 already? I missed all the talk shows again. I didn't go to group again, either. Oh, well.
I fell asleep telling my story. I haven't told it yet today. Don't worry - you don't have to stay and hear it. I wish I could stop telling it. I try to think about other things, but it doesn't last long. I hear the story rambling around in there and it gets louder and louder. I'll try to think of something else, and it's rolling around, like it's pounding on the door, and it just gets louder until I start to tell it. I tried just telling part of it. That doesn't work. I'll tell a little bit then change the subject and it snaps back at me like a dog that's friendly until you pet a sore spot, then he snaps at you.
Sorry - I know I say this all the time. People yell at me for apologizing too much. I used to drive my roommate crazy telling the same stories over and over. That was different, though. That was just because I'd forget that I had already told her this story or that one. It wasn't like this where there's only THE STORY and it doesn't leave room for anything else.
The Doctor suggested I try writing it down. It never worked before, but I was using a computer. Maybe writing it with a pencil will work better. Does it seem weird that I'm writing while I'm talking to you? We'll see if this works. When I used a computer, I typed it about four times before I started telling it out loud. That was when people got tired of me. I told it to everyone. I'd go to the bank and start telling it to the teller. I tried to tell it to the postman a bunch of times.
My roommate had it worst, though. I'd try to start the story and she'd say she'd heard it. A few minutes later I'd start again. We'd go 'round and 'round that way for hours, and days and weeks. Finally, she said she couldn't take it and if I didn't go to the doctor or something she was moving. I'm not ready for that. It's too much change right now. I hate being dependent on anyone, but I am. It sucks for her. She doesn't owe me anything. She needs to move on with her life, but she doesn't want to leave me alone like this. I wish I could stop. I wish things could be the way they used to be. We had so much fun back then. Weekends we were on the road. We'd go to concerts all over the place. We'd go to the Jersey shore. We'd go up to Brooklyn, or Manhattan. We went to Delaware a few times, and even Ohio once. Life was good then. Sometimes. I wasn't wrapped too tight in those days, so I'd have good days and bad. The bad ones were really bad then. I'd be up for four days and get so much done, then I'd crash for a couple of weeks. The crashes were hard.
I fell asleep telling my story. I haven't told it yet today. Don't worry - you don't have to stay and hear it. I wish I could stop telling it. I try to think about other things, but it doesn't last long. I hear the story rambling around in there and it gets louder and louder. I'll try to think of something else, and it's rolling around, like it's pounding on the door, and it just gets louder until I start to tell it. I tried just telling part of it. That doesn't work. I'll tell a little bit then change the subject and it snaps back at me like a dog that's friendly until you pet a sore spot, then he snaps at you.
Sorry - I know I say this all the time. People yell at me for apologizing too much. I used to drive my roommate crazy telling the same stories over and over. That was different, though. That was just because I'd forget that I had already told her this story or that one. It wasn't like this where there's only THE STORY and it doesn't leave room for anything else.
The Doctor suggested I try writing it down. It never worked before, but I was using a computer. Maybe writing it with a pencil will work better. Does it seem weird that I'm writing while I'm talking to you? We'll see if this works. When I used a computer, I typed it about four times before I started telling it out loud. That was when people got tired of me. I told it to everyone. I'd go to the bank and start telling it to the teller. I tried to tell it to the postman a bunch of times.
My roommate had it worst, though. I'd try to start the story and she'd say she'd heard it. A few minutes later I'd start again. We'd go 'round and 'round that way for hours, and days and weeks. Finally, she said she couldn't take it and if I didn't go to the doctor or something she was moving. I'm not ready for that. It's too much change right now. I hate being dependent on anyone, but I am. It sucks for her. She doesn't owe me anything. She needs to move on with her life, but she doesn't want to leave me alone like this. I wish I could stop. I wish things could be the way they used to be. We had so much fun back then. Weekends we were on the road. We'd go to concerts all over the place. We'd go to the Jersey shore. We'd go up to Brooklyn, or Manhattan. We went to Delaware a few times, and even Ohio once. Life was good then. Sometimes. I wasn't wrapped too tight in those days, so I'd have good days and bad. The bad ones were really bad then. I'd be up for four days and get so much done, then I'd crash for a couple of weeks. The crashes were hard.
posted by Morgaine at 3:10 PM
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