I just sat and listened to my voicemails that have built up over the last week. Only four this time. I guess it is odd that I avoid listening to voicemail but I don't avoid the phone when I hear it ring. I don't know what that is about really ...

I had saved messages the system wanted to delete, so I had to listen to them too. Then there were the messages that I had somehow skipped instead of saved or deleted. I guess I probably listened to 12 messages total.

It was ridiculously depressing.

Messages are the wake up call from the dull haze that something went wrong ...

I sat there and felt sorry for myself in the same moment that I hated myself. In one fraction of a second, it feels ok to still be upset ... to really not be back to normal ... to think about them and what I wish had been different. In one more fraction, I have such disdain for those feelings ... a hatred that I could be so consumed with something that pales in comparison to what so many others are going through.

I keep telling myself should feel touched that people are calling to see how I am doing and that I have made it home safely ... but that isn't the first feeling I get. I feel tired and heavy, aimless and misdirected, but most of all wasted. Everything I could be contributing to the world is going to waste. The energy I could be putting into my own life is trapped somewhere that I can't seem to find most days.

I want to be me again. I want to be the me that my friends love.
I don't know how to be this person ... but I can't get her to go away.

Posted by: Princess Cat at 11:05 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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