a quest for sanity
7481 Ridge Road, Hanover, Maryland, 21076. 29.6 miles away from Towson University and a 40 minute drive (ofcourse it can take up to an hour or more in traffic) This is the address of room number 412 at the Holiday Inn Express BWI, the room i have occupied for over 24 hours, before this it was the spare room at Mileidy's. I've been away from Towson since Friday at 3, which also, was the last time i ate untill tonight, due to the stress that i can't seem to put into words. This room has two full beds, a large bathroom (with all the soap, lotion and shampoo conveniently labeled labeled and with instructions for use) a TV, Micro fridge, desk, and three chairs. Yes, i'm including the random dinner table chair that serves no purpose and is no where near a dinner table, or any table for that matter. For the second time this room, or more specificly the far bed by the window, is occupied by my personal belongings. My blue overnight bag (which has now been in use for 3 nights) is packed and sits on the red armchair. Its a sad bag, it never holds its shape, and though it has a zipper, it serves no point now that there is a rip the size of the opening on the top of the bag, but it continues to serve its purpose. My book bag is propped against it although most of the contents have spilled out over what little space is left in the chair. My wallet, key card, gum, and other small belongings are all trying to stay clear of the cracks that will certainly consume them if given the chance. The horrendous brown blanket this hotel has been so kind to provide me with, sits in a ball at the foot of the bed, the bed that is no longer perfectly made, but made none the less.
What space my body doesn't take up on the bed, is instead used by 3 classes worth of books (most notably the political science books that haven't left my side in over a week). My computer sits silently at the foot of the bed, no doubt waiting for me to recount this adventurous story of how I ran away for some wild trip. Its going to be sadly disappointed.
Adventurous is hardly the word, confused, anger ridden, non-rational. Those all fit better than adventurous. Adventurous is not the word for someone racing down I-695, 83, 70, 95, 195, and 200. Or routes 40 and 29. Frustrated, confused, fuming. Those work. Thats how I found this place at 11 pm Saturday.
I found it as i was racing down the highway, trying to stay one mile ahead of my own personal problems that seem to want to come back and haunt me, and 10 miles ahead of my bulimic roommates problems. 15 miles away from the ones I'll have to face sometime tomorrow when i actaully go back to the apartment. See, i haven't exactly informed anyone of where i've been since Friday at 4, well 7 when i left Lauren. Which brings me to my phone.
My phone is sitting to the left on me, mixed in with the pens and penciles, but strangly silent. Thats because it hasnt been on since friday. I've turned it off and refused to communicate with the outside world until today. Today i managed to convince one of my other roommates to spend the night here. She's currently banging out her own essay at the desk near the foot of my bed.
My well worn political science books have, unfortunatly, not left my hands all weekend. I'd much rather a somewhat exciting, even though old, recount of the "Dance of Legislation" to my own deamonds, and roommates problems (along with her mothers quest to fix those)
Somehow on the 100 miles i've driven in the past few days i've hoped to reserve enough sanity to make it through mid terms and to the weekend. Unfornatly that sanity is slipping much faster than i can recapture it, and i'd become dismilly aware that it will all be gone by tomorrow night (unless i find the cash to spend yet another night in a hotel room)
The whole point of this is to get all these feellings out so i can somehow organize them into an essay for english, but the problem is in order to write this essay withouth being a total bitch i have to understand exactly why my roommate feels the need to be like this, what battle is she fighting in her head? or is she? Thing is, if i try to figgure that out, i undoubtly steer off to my own old problems. What battle was i fighting? Can i compare that to hers and possibly understand? I don't want to understand. I can't understand because i know if i do, i'm that much closer to rationalizing her problems. Doing that litteraly puts me one step away from being like her. I know that as soon as i can rationalize and understand her problems, i'll come to accept what makes her like that, and thats what scares me, i dont want to end up the same way. does that even make sense? Besides, I'm still put off, majorly, by the fact that she left a vomit soaked rag, and half of her vomit, in the shower we share, and that i was standing in it. And at the fact that i feel like her mom is going to rely on me to help her fix this problem. I dont think she realizes just how long this will take to fix, and i am in no way ready to take on that responsiblity. Bluntly I feel like since I have a previous history of bad habits i feel like it will be all to easy for her to influence me to pick up this behavior, espically since i've dabbled in it before.
Can i just inform you that at this moment there are no less than 4 types of pills on the floor of our hotel room? Hoodia, Stacker 2s, EphedrineHCl and Caffeine. See my point?
I don't understand just why i don't feel safe, i know that even when no one can get in touch with me, when I've locked myself in Mileidy's spare room, listening to the hum of a vacuum cleaner a floor below me, why i still feel so frighten by the fact that there still could be someway someone can find me. Why do i need to be away so badly. Why do i feel the need to drive 30 miles, to hear the hum of an air condition unit lull me to sleep? Why can't i do that in my own room. I've spent 72 hours and the only difference in me now from Wednesday is that my rage has subsided to confussion, and my self control has deminshed greatly. I honestly almost went to buy, well, what I needed last night, after explaining i just had to accept that a return to those habits are just not an option.
What space my body doesn't take up on the bed, is instead used by 3 classes worth of books (most notably the political science books that haven't left my side in over a week). My computer sits silently at the foot of the bed, no doubt waiting for me to recount this adventurous story of how I ran away for some wild trip. Its going to be sadly disappointed.
Adventurous is hardly the word, confused, anger ridden, non-rational. Those all fit better than adventurous. Adventurous is not the word for someone racing down I-695, 83, 70, 95, 195, and 200. Or routes 40 and 29. Frustrated, confused, fuming. Those work. Thats how I found this place at 11 pm Saturday.
I found it as i was racing down the highway, trying to stay one mile ahead of my own personal problems that seem to want to come back and haunt me, and 10 miles ahead of my bulimic roommates problems. 15 miles away from the ones I'll have to face sometime tomorrow when i actaully go back to the apartment. See, i haven't exactly informed anyone of where i've been since Friday at 4, well 7 when i left Lauren. Which brings me to my phone.
My phone is sitting to the left on me, mixed in with the pens and penciles, but strangly silent. Thats because it hasnt been on since friday. I've turned it off and refused to communicate with the outside world until today. Today i managed to convince one of my other roommates to spend the night here. She's currently banging out her own essay at the desk near the foot of my bed.
My well worn political science books have, unfortunatly, not left my hands all weekend. I'd much rather a somewhat exciting, even though old, recount of the "Dance of Legislation" to my own deamonds, and roommates problems (along with her mothers quest to fix those)
Somehow on the 100 miles i've driven in the past few days i've hoped to reserve enough sanity to make it through mid terms and to the weekend. Unfornatly that sanity is slipping much faster than i can recapture it, and i'd become dismilly aware that it will all be gone by tomorrow night (unless i find the cash to spend yet another night in a hotel room)
The whole point of this is to get all these feellings out so i can somehow organize them into an essay for english, but the problem is in order to write this essay withouth being a total bitch i have to understand exactly why my roommate feels the need to be like this, what battle is she fighting in her head? or is she? Thing is, if i try to figgure that out, i undoubtly steer off to my own old problems. What battle was i fighting? Can i compare that to hers and possibly understand? I don't want to understand. I can't understand because i know if i do, i'm that much closer to rationalizing her problems. Doing that litteraly puts me one step away from being like her. I know that as soon as i can rationalize and understand her problems, i'll come to accept what makes her like that, and thats what scares me, i dont want to end up the same way. does that even make sense? Besides, I'm still put off, majorly, by the fact that she left a vomit soaked rag, and half of her vomit, in the shower we share, and that i was standing in it. And at the fact that i feel like her mom is going to rely on me to help her fix this problem. I dont think she realizes just how long this will take to fix, and i am in no way ready to take on that responsiblity. Bluntly I feel like since I have a previous history of bad habits i feel like it will be all to easy for her to influence me to pick up this behavior, espically since i've dabbled in it before.
Can i just inform you that at this moment there are no less than 4 types of pills on the floor of our hotel room? Hoodia, Stacker 2s, EphedrineHCl and Caffeine. See my point?
I don't understand just why i don't feel safe, i know that even when no one can get in touch with me, when I've locked myself in Mileidy's spare room, listening to the hum of a vacuum cleaner a floor below me, why i still feel so frighten by the fact that there still could be someway someone can find me. Why do i need to be away so badly. Why do i feel the need to drive 30 miles, to hear the hum of an air condition unit lull me to sleep? Why can't i do that in my own room. I've spent 72 hours and the only difference in me now from Wednesday is that my rage has subsided to confussion, and my self control has deminshed greatly. I honestly almost went to buy, well, what I needed last night, after explaining i just had to accept that a return to those habits are just not an option.