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i may have had the saddest (most pathetic) thought yesterday.

i want to write a letter, but i don't want to send it. so i thought i would scan it, and email it.

my other pathetic thought was to create a photo letter in powerpoint.

i want 1997 back.

will 7 hours of sleep be enough today? this is the test. i have fred after my yiddish class (yes, you heard me) and i will tell him how i've broken another heart with my complacency. i don't want the cause of my numbness to be the wellbutrin, but i don't really want to be numb, either. not particularly for myself; i think i'm functioning well enough in the numb, but it seems to really affect the person who loves you, and you are supposed to love in kind.

i stopped caring about whether i hurt s. at one point, too. i was too tired of tip-toeing around everything and pulling myself back so as to not cause friction.

i do care about hurting d., but i am again unwilling to give up "myself" to avoid that hurt. i spend all day practicing my facade, and unfortunately, the mask comes off at night. it can be a little hideous, i guess.

i am making excuses for myself - well, are they excuses or etiology? - saying that i was not destined to be attached long-term, for it was not how i was raised. it was not a productive thing to become attached, because it was all left behind soon enough anyhow.

i also think about my type of love. an obsessional intense but short-term experience. i used to become so painfully infatuated with people who were unsuitable targets, and i knew that i would have to live with the pain of the unrequited (illegal in most states) love until it faded. and it would fade. it remained long-term only because i wouldn't have access to them anymore - the route could not continue on to calm, warm, yet less stalkerish feelings. everyone who was a love object was also an object of loss.

that's why it was so hard to get over s. i wasn't allowed access to her.

it's not a simplistic "i want what i can't have" or "the thrill is in the chase" or "i don't want you but no one else can have you" type of thing...or is it? is there a pill for it, if so? are there magazine ads showing happy couples who used to hurt each other intentionally in order to maintain an obsessive, destructive, drama-filled "relationship"? but who now hold hands, placidly, and smile, placidly, and share lukewarm kisses on lukewarm nights, eating overboiled mashed vegetables on eggshell plates?

no, i think i'm well fucked. i think a good dose of psychoanalysis is just what the herr doktor ordered. think about it - i've got my father to contend with, i've got my mother to contend with, i've got my entire pattern of living with which to contend.

surely this explains the dreams of reports written about me, by the intended recipient of my intended letter, that i can't find after seeing briefly. they say things about me, they say things that i need to know. i spend the rest of the dream searching the same piles, picking up the same books, and obsessing until its painful.