"Desiring truth, awaiting it, laboriously distilling a few words, for ever desiring—(a cry starts to the left, another to the right. Wheels strike divergently...Flaunted, leaf-light, drifting at corners, blown across the wheels, silver-splashed, home or not home, gathered, scattered, squandered in separate scales, swept up, down, torn, sunk, assembled—and truth?" Virginia Woolf, "Monday or Tuesday"

I have no real idea what I'm doing. I'm winging it. Why do I keep bothering to note that? Probably because everyone is yelling at me, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? What the fuck are YOU doing?, I usually think back silently. Do you know, really?

Aaron is screaming he wants to come home, everyone around me screaming ideas and feelings about that, I will go to work at a hospice today where people scream so quietly it's deafening. Everyone is WRITING IN CAPS all around me. I cry less as the din increases. Is that good or bad? A strength or a weakness? I'm not asking really. I just don't know, is all.

If I had to say right now, to "call it", I'd say the thing that stands between Aaron and I most is not the girlfriend (notgirlfriend, whatever), it's the knowledge of nervous breakdowns. He says completely insane things like "I know my own mind". Anyone who says that with certainty doesn't know anything at all about their own mind unless they added the caveat "and it's an untrustworthy motherfucker". That caveat is what breakdowns teach you, and teach you to watch out for (and that you still might not see it coming, sideswiped totally like this one got me). Live and learn, my man.