I’m home. Back in the big bad West.
It feels different this time. Part of it is that my dog, Bear, is gone. He was my rock, my ally, and my safety net. If chaos came, if my mom got mad, if I felt terrible for feeling anything, Bear was there to calm me down and understand me.
Part of it is that in the last year or so, I’ve really found my “family of friends.” And it doesn’t really feel like Christmas, probably because the show just ended.
Food is hard here. The plenitude of it both makes me feel comforted (empty fridges & cabinets make me feel vulnerable and stressed for some reason), but the availability of it and the fact that there’s no way to avoid eating lots of it also gives me anxiety. Today was bad… I’m hopeful for tomorrow. I just fucking wish it wasn’t such a big thing that took over my brain.
I’m sleepy, but I aim to write much more. It’ll give me something to do and occupy my time while I’m here. Which is for a while.
“Do you think there is heaven or hell? he signed.
‘I don’t know. Not in the Christian way, if that’s what you mean. I think people have a right to believe in whatever they want. I just don’t.’…
If someone came in here and gave you positive proof, would you do anything different?
She shook her head. ‘I think it’s just as likely that someone could say that this place, right here, is heaven, hell and earth all at the same time. And we still wouldn’t know what to do differently. Everyone just muddles through, trying not to make too many mistakes.’ (256)
― David Wroblewski, The Story of Edgar Sawtelle