January 25th, 2014

My head feels as if there are worms drilling through the skull and burrowing
in the brain. It pulses with a kind of angry light, like I imagine the sun will
before it goes out. I like to think of that somehow-- it reminds me of a time
when scaring myself with the probable eventuality of the end was the largest
fright I had. Now I am afraid of every day and I feel very much like the walls
I hide within are just waiting to shiver and shift and evaporate and leave me
exposed. I left the party last night to buy firewood. Firewood was a pretense.
I left the party last night to test my wobbly legs and vacillating knees against
a pavement of salt and ice. I left the party last night to be sure of my flesh in both
its fragility and fortitude against the 12 degree night.  This morning I walked
to the park and hid amongst the trees, as if God were looking for me and I did
not want to be found. But He was there too and when the wind wrapped around
me and touched every place, I walked further into the trees, but when the frozen water
under the footbridge caught the light, I knew that by going further in I would only find more.