got no right

"The best thing for being sad," replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, "is to learn something. That's the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then -- to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn."
-- T.H. White, "The Once and Future King"

"I got a bad disease
from my brain is where I bleed.
Insanity, it seems."

So you can know, deep down in side, that it's the right thing to do, has to be done, will be done in eventuality so it might as well happen now. You can have thought it backwards and forwards and find no way for it not to happen (and then munge actually doing it pretty bad)... and then you're sitting on Saturday night, feeling quite utterly alone, and you find that all the Guys are hacking away busily for a class that you took in the Spring and don't remember much of, and you can't think of anybody particular that you want to talk to about how you feel... or can't even precisely put your finger on what this feeling is called... but it's not pleasant. Heh. It's that feeling of "well, I don't know what I used to do in this sort of situation, because she was always here for Saturday nights."

Why can't I just fucking cry? How long does this need to fester in my mind before I actually shed tears? I've come close. A bunch of times. I can feel them welling up. They're not coming.

I called my dad. I felt better after calling him. I still don't feel good. But I can't complain too much, I probably feel better than at least one other person out there. Gah.

I felt like I was going to write a song or a poem or something, but it's been so long since I've actually put down any poetry, and I think that what I used to do probably is crap anyway. I need some good method of expression. Maybe prose does it. I considered busting out the 'bone. Nobody's in the apartment, I could play.

Feel with me: I have the soul of a poet. Pity me: I'm lonely.

No, just ignore me. I don't feel anything, really -- that there? That's not me. I'll get over it, in as far as there is a distinct "I". There shouldn't be anything to get over: it was the right thing to do, and I'm an utter prick for doing it. It had to happen.

I hate me for dwelling on how I'm feeling. That's crap. I don't feel anything; I am soulless and detached.

Ooh, that sounds good. Feel sorry for me: I am soulless and detached.

That's not right either. But it's still one of those exceedingly empty nights where it's not quite chilly and there's nobody on the campus for whatever reason, and you don't feel like doing anything but you don't want to be in the room anymore and it feels like the world already ended and it's that weird streetlight-day that goes on pretty much forever...

Amber, I'm sorry...

(don't worry about commenting on this to cheer me up -- I'll feel better in a bit. I'm just moody and brooding. It's part of my image.)