I never know what I want except that sometimes it's to stop existing. I feel like I must be walking around with "whatever you do, don't hire me" tattooed on my face--unnoticed by me, obvious to everyone else. Maybe they can sense that I don't really want the job; I just want the diversion and the money. People always ask me what I want to do, meaning what job I want to do, and I say I don't know. That's true, in a way, but really the answer is no job. Not that I don't want to work, but that there is no job I want to do. Sometimes I feel like I wish I could just get paid to be a friend, but when it comes down to it, I'm not even a very good friend even to the people I love most. Maybe especially to them. I don't fit anywhere and I never have, unless happy retrospective moods where I forget all of the bad bits count. I don't want to do anything. Lately I have been finding reasons to dislike or to be angry with almost everyone I have come into contact with. I have been worse than usual about communicating. This past weekend at Jimmy and Missy's it was a full moon and so beautiful, and I meant to go out and look at the mountains in the moonlight--I really did. But instead, both nights, I watched "Most Terrifying Places In America" or "America's Top Model"--neither of which I actually enjoyed--instead, and then went to bed. I just crawl around in circles. I never go anywhere. I don't even sit up. I just keep my face to the floor.
While walking Miley I was holding it together, mostly, then followed her off the road and slipped in the mud, and cracked my knee against a rock. Two minutes later I started crying as I walked up the street through the drizzle, imagining myself talking* about my mental state and seeing pieces of my face, myself, melt off and fall to the ground in the rain, sobbing out loud in the dark, feeling so utterly worthless.
*To David. Of course.