So I talked to Ben tonight, and to Eben, and a little to Nick, and then I decided that I couldn't stand the pseudo-proximity anymore- I needed somebody, someone warm, to come to me and to hold me and believe, for me, that evferything would be alright. I put an away message up pleading that anyone readinbg it who could come to me would. I couldn't stand to be alone...or with just cathy and tony and austin in the house, oblivious to me.

I went downstairs and laid on the couch, upright, and watched the front door. Eventually I got up to get and orange. I brought it back to the couch and ate it piece by piece and it didn't taste very much, probably because my nose was all stuffed from the crying, and after there were no pieces left I picked at the white stuff leftover on the peel and took little bits of that to my mouth and ate it with very mechanical motions. Fifty times or so, I kept eating it and watching the door. I didn't want to stop eating because my body was telling me to slump down into the couch and rest, but I thought if I took my eyes off the door it would mean I had given up hope of somebody coming for me, and I needed someone to come, and to save me.

And while all this was happening I was concentrating very hard on the window-shaped headlight ghosts gliding against my wall, seeing where they stopped, thinking every car that stopped near my house was for me, my hero, whoever it was, and I kept hearing the stairs creaking, kept expecting the screen door to open and a knock to come. But it never came. And I thought for a while what it would be if I just sat there, on the couch, for days, no matter what anyone said to me, just watching the door and acting very much like I was oblivious to the real world, insane. And if they tried to move me by picking up the couch, I would simply ge off of it, when they had moved it, and go to sit on the exact same spot on the floor, as if nothing would happen. (I'm not sure if it dawned on me entirely that if they wanted to move me, it would be much more logical for them to pick me up than the couch, but what do you ask from me? I was, and am, in a delicate state.) I thought of how it would look if someone came in after I had fallen asleep to see me there, laying there, tear stained....it would look as though I had attempted suicide by trying to overdose on the white stuff on the inside ot the orange peels.

I don't remember throwing them away, but I'm devently sure that I did not justlet them fall off of me onto the couch when I got up. Tony and Cathy downstairs and Cathy suggested that I go to sleep upstairs- I had slumped down by then, one step along the way to giving up hope completely for the night, and I must have looked asleep, but thinking back on it now I'm indignant- she seemed offended that I would sleep on the couch, thus keeping her from using it loudly, but did she expect me to be able to sleep in my own room with the racket they were making upstairs? My sister, her son, and her fiancée are a force that have taken over this house rather as a tornado takes over a trailer park. I want them to leave, I cannot stand the way that they are constantly in every place at every time. I want to leave more though, I think. I cannot stand anything else here, either. At any rate, I left my vigil in the living room, and I went upstairs to find myself walking into rooms and realizing that no matter where I went, there was no reason for me to be there- nothing to do but wait. For a rescue that wouldn't, that won't come. I want to go to bed, but I can't, not now, not like this. I need something to save me a little before I can sleep on a night like tonight. I can't give up hope for tonight so entirely....I'm crying and speaking allowed as I right this, suddenly, except not really crying, just tearing up, and not loudly at all. Just my weak little voice that never seems to be for anyone but myself, for I am always alone when I cry.

I commit a little suicide everytime I go to bed as unfulfilled as I do.

Mr. Ladd has come online, and I IMed him instantly. Maybe he's what I was waiting for tonight....how discouraging. But he's the only thing coming for miles around that even looks like it could be anything at all. I am talking to him....and I'm back to this cursed fucking machine. My generation and it's capability to communicate.....ha.


My name is Linda, and I do not really consider this a life, do I? on with it~