I am much more reasonable by daylight.
The sun sets. Everyone goes to bed, but I am awake, awake, awake, and so discontented.
I know that I should not be discontented. Most of the time I’m not, like during the day when everything is nice and beautiful and half-full. But at night I feel very melodramatic and really start to think about everything in my life that is going wrong.
- Pieces of my heart are scattered all over. There are Oregon people, Redmond people, Colorado people, Annie People, SMBI people, Virginia people, and what is the point? No matter how much I love them I will always go away, and that will be the end. All I have to show for it are a few more facebook friends.
. - My notebooks are in Colorado. It is impossible to explain why that is so hard.
. - I have no future. I never have a future. I never know where I’ll be living in several months. I want to know so badly.
. - On a similar note, I can never stop depending on my parent’s money for survival.
. - I cannot write a novel. This torments me day and night. I have a pen. That’s it. The only thing that could even begin to solve my future-and-money problems. But it won’t obey me. I tell it to write and it writes dreams. It writes about why orange is one of my favorite colors even though I don’t like it so much as some colors that aren’t my favorite. It writes feelings, maybe, feelings and frustrations. But it won’t write a novel.
. - I want to go to college. I want to learn things. I want to major in digital media communications and minor in creative writing. I know that is the stupidest thing to want right now. For one thing, digital media communications? For a Mennonite girl? Excuse me? May I ask why you want to major in digital media communications? How pointless!
For another thing, I have no money. And besides that, the cheapest rates are for residents but I am an Oregon resident and Oregon makes me sick.
Nevertheless, I want it. I want it and I don’t really know why, or else can’t think of the words to describe why.
. - I will always get sick.
Case in point: I am sick right now.
I can’t beat it.
Once I wrote a song. It went like this:Boy won’t they be surprised when I beat my sickness
Boy won’t they be surprised when I winAnother time I wrote a song that had a line like, “I wanna say, go away, don’t you ever come back.” But the rest of the song escapes me, and I don’t have it on hand. It is in a notebook.
Or another time there was a poem that went…
Boy,
You really have your claws in deep
I try to get away
But you just won’t let goHere we go again
With the same old thing
I think I’m getting better, but…
Never mind!
No!I’m talking about my sickness in all three. I always think of sickness as an enormous being in my life with tremendous power, which I can never beat. Never. I read Psalms, and verses saying things like “don’t let my enemy triumph over me.” To me that is sickness. That enemy with all that power. Sickness. West Nile. Headache. Whatever.
I can never be completely free from it.
. - My sickness induced insomnia has me thinking of the nastyish elements of my life which perhaps it is best to not think about too much. I am much more reasonable by daylight. Nothing is quite so lonely and empty when there is sunlight and cousins.
.
The Girl in the Red Rubber Boots 
Leave a reply to Sharon Cancel reply