05.12.04 - 7:04

ricky stone, ricky stone. why'd they ever call you up again? why'd they put you in the game? it's just a game, right. right. still...sometimes it's the only thing that puts a smile on my face. and then there are days like this. oh well. it's hard to feel worse than i normally do.

what are the odds? i've had 'the creek drank the cradle' on in the background for the past three days and every time i notice it above the silence it's 'upward over the mountain.' every time. he's singing, 'mother, don't worry,' i'm thinking, 'mother, don't worry.' mother. don't worry.

i went to the dermatologist today because my skin is always crawling. i wake up slapping at invisible bugs. i run to the bathroom every hour to make sure they're not crawling all over my stomach, my arms, my legs. they're invisible. they're always there. when i'm at home alone i'm tearing clothes off my skin, trying to catch those tiny bugs in action. the doctor told me it's the drugs. the psychiatrist told me it's not the drugs. i went to a skin doctor today because it was really my last shot at figuring this out. i wanted her to figure this out. i wanted her to fix it. and then she tells me, no, there aren't any bugs, no invisible parasites, no real problems except maybe a very mild case of dermatographia.

antihistamines would help, maybe, she says. she looks at me as i sit there, biting my lip. ha. i can't do it, i can't hold back the tears and all of a sudden i'm sobbing, i can't stop. i'm sitting there, sobbing in this dermatologist's office, wearing this goddamn hospital gown. it's the first time i've been here. it's the first time i've ever seen this woman. she's sitting there silently, letting me cry. there aren't any tissues and the tears are coming faster and faster. i'm not trying to stop them anymore. i don't have anything i can use to wipe them away. like magic, she pulls a box of tissues out of the air. i grab a handful. i don't know where they came from. she's looking at me with her big eyes. she's not making me talk. i'm trying to breathe, i'm trying to talk, i'm trying to get myself together. i'm a goddamn mess. she's not making me talk. she's not asking questions. i take another minute before i can form the words. i wanted it to be something you could fix, i tell her. i wanted to be something easy. i wouldn't have cared what it was, bugs, parasites, allergies, anything. bugs, parasites, gross, i think. whatever. WHATEVER. i wouldn't have cared because it could be something fixable. instead it's nothing, nothing she can do anything about, anyway, and it's driving me crazy. use more moisturizer. take shorter showers. use cooler water. she apologizes. she doesn't want me to think she's taking me lightly. i'm still biting my lip, holding back more tears.

i walk back to the office. i'm still holding back tears and i'm feeling all these eyes on me. i turn around a few times and catch a couple guys looking at me. most of the time i'd think they were checking me out, but today i feel they're wondering, goodness, what's making her so sad? i have my headphones on and an old man on the sidewalk is looking at me, moving his lips. i take my headphones off and he says it again, you're too pretty to look so sad, and i want to slap him. i hear it all the time, i've heard it a million times before. you're too pretty to look so sad. why does such a pretty girl look so sad? oh, i don't know, maybe it's because i AM sad. maybe it's because being pretty doesn't have anything to do with being sad. maybe you have no idea what my life is like, what's going on in my head, what i'm feeling, what i'm thinking and maybe you should just keep your mouth shut. i know. i know you were just trying to make me feel better. i'm sorry i got angry. it's just that there isn't anything you could do right now to make me feel better. i'm beyond you. i'm so far gone.

previous - next