mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary

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Blue Ridge Mountains

Sadness and upheaval, sadness and complacency, where did I go? Not this version of me, but me when I started writing in this journal seven years ago, the girl who was so passionate and alive and vivid and like, as Andrew kindly says I am now but I'm not, a heroine in a novel. A heroine. I feel equal parts burden and burdened. There is nothing heroic in me today. There wasn't yesterday. There won't be tomorrow.
I went to the record store tonight and found myself feeling overwhelmed at something so simple, something I used to love to do-- running my hands over the music. Finding the empty space that once held this album or that, the placard with nothing in front of it telling me a story about somebody else who liked exactly what I liked who had been in that same spot at one point in time, his or her shoes touching the floor exactly where mine did. I've felt half-way in the world for awhile now and I forgot that there were still people living, body and soul, wholly in it. People maybe a little like me. People that maybe would be happy to know me. They exist. Ecstacy and terror at the thought that the girl I used to be is waking up again.
I'm going to start looking for a new job as soon as my roommate gets on his feet again. I put it off for so long, waiting for things to be perfect and stable, but I can't anymore. I spent seven hours in my office fucking around on the internet and sighing each time I looked at the clock. I don't engage myself. I don't talk to people, at least Real Angela doesn't. Work Angela comes out. How do you like this heat? Where are you visiting from? And so on. Nothing real or lasting. I want to change that. Soon.

10:37 p.m. - 2009-08-17

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