I am aware of absence. For me to be comfortable and safe, I need my blanket and pillow, chapstick, a drink, my phone, and my computer. If any of those things are missing, I feel uncomfortable, like something is scraping along my nerves. I am aware of her absence in the same way. I'm not anxious. I'm waiting for things to return to normal. Then I ( Read more... )

Okay, here we go. A whole weekend--Shangless. I'm anxious and I don't know why exactly. She barely speaks to me when she spends the weekend in NY, and she's gone away before. But I've never made it a point to say no communication before. I usually talk to her every day. It's hard to say what she is to me: she is the one who is always there, my ( Read more... )

I'm not really a private person. I learned early and well to say what's on my mind because often what's on my mind is wrong and dangerous. I tell my close friends--and my psychiatrist--everything. And I do mean everything. When you have to sit in a room with a large man who looks like a bear and tell him that you're "teenage boy horny", you have no ( Read more... )

Okay, so this nightmarish week is almost over. I can think of no better way to end it than by coming out to see Shang's kids do a reading. I think it's important for me to know--to understand--that she wasn't just fooling around, or having a good time (though I bet she did), or ignoring me. She was doing work. Good work. It reminds me of U.S. Grant ( Read more... )

You know when it's barely raining, but there are puddles on the ground? That's the way I feel. I wouldn't say I'm suicidal, but yet suicide seems to be the inevitable end. I'm not anxious or depressed. I'm a bit sad and a little bit more afraid ( Read more... )

I can't handle this. It's not anxiety, it's not worry, it's not fear. It is pain, and it is squeezing my heart, and I don't know how to make it stop. It's hard to eat, it's hard to sleep, and I am very nearly chain smoking. I don't know what I'm supposed to do ( Read more... )

I didn't get up this morning at seven (when my alarm went off). I didn't do yoga, or make myself a healthy breakfast, or dive head first into my writing. I slept. And I was happy being asleep. I wasn't waiting or worrying. But now I'm awake. I wrote a little bit and I took a shower. And I'm waiting and worrying. There is no doubt. There's no ( Read more... )

I want to die. I want to die, and there's no one around to help me. Christina's at a party. Gretchen's too fragile right now. Dr. R would just send me to the hospital, and I swore that I'd never go back there. And Shang? Shang is busy. Even if she weren't busy, I wouldn't talk to her about this. Not this time. I don't want her to think that this ( Read more... )

Whenever someone tells me (or implies) that romantic love is the most intense kind of love that a person can feel, I remember my Auntie Lisa wailing at her mother's funeral. I was eight years-old and it has haunted me ever since ( Read more... )

I'm in danger of losing the person I love most in the world. That's not exaggeration, not any part of it ( Read more... )