arbitrary
I feel as though I ought to say something -- there are a lot of things I ought to say. There are too many things buzzing round and round in my head just now. (It's an anniversary sort of month. A year ago my mother was in the hospital. When I prod in that direction my emotions are still as thick and numb as they were then. I don't know why I find it so difficult to feel anything about that month, about Leandra's birth -- perhaps because there is too much to feel. Perhaps I shut down out of self-defense, only I didn't mean to.)
I've been feeling very oddly disconnected lately, as though I am only skimming the surface of the world. It isn't entirely an unpleasant feeling, but it is a slightly worrying one, when I think about it. I feel like a tangle of contradictions: here, passion and joy and anger are hot within me; here, when it should matter, the nerves have gone numb.
I'm not unhappy. It's -- well, it's a bit like being in a dream, and you try to touch things, to affect things, and your fingers drift straight through the furniture, and when you open your mouth you cannot make a sound.
---
Alessandra and I are playing the letter game, which is not only grand fun, but I'm actually writing. Of course, when I sat down and had a go at Evangeline again, not much happened. (This is partly because for the life of me I cannot find Evangeline's voice. At least, unlike the majority of my other characters, she seems to have a relatively happy, stable, comfortable family. I was beginning to be worried. But she won't talk. I'm starting to wonder whether or not writing in first person was a good idea. Also I should babble about this more fully later.)
I've been feeling very oddly disconnected lately, as though I am only skimming the surface of the world. It isn't entirely an unpleasant feeling, but it is a slightly worrying one, when I think about it. I feel like a tangle of contradictions: here, passion and joy and anger are hot within me; here, when it should matter, the nerves have gone numb.
I'm not unhappy. It's -- well, it's a bit like being in a dream, and you try to touch things, to affect things, and your fingers drift straight through the furniture, and when you open your mouth you cannot make a sound.
---
Alessandra and I are playing the letter game, which is not only grand fun, but I'm actually writing. Of course, when I sat down and had a go at Evangeline again, not much happened. (This is partly because for the life of me I cannot find Evangeline's voice. At least, unlike the majority of my other characters, she seems to have a relatively happy, stable, comfortable family. I was beginning to be worried. But she won't talk. I'm starting to wonder whether or not writing in first person was a good idea. Also I should babble about this more fully later.)