More stupid and depressing mental ramblings - 05.21.02 - 12:24 am
Look!

I'm dizzy w/sleeping pills.

I scared myself at work today. Well, technically, I've been scaring myself at work for a few days now.

First, a day or two after I started at the library, my supervisor told me that if there was a man who made me nervous while I was shelving books or whatnot, I should just come back. Neither think twice nor pass it off as nothing. 'You're young and pretty,' she said. 'You need to be careful when you're alone back there.'

I won't go into how angry this made me. Not the fact that she sort of insinuated that my age or looks is relevant to how vulnerable I am to creeps. That's a given. What made me angry is why the hell do I have to be scared? Hell, why do we have to be scared? All the time. Whether we're walking to the park or shelving books way back in non-fiction. Watch out, man, there are some sick people out there.

At night, after we lock up, all of us walk to the parking lot together. Some one said how she wished a man would work nights at the library. 'It's a shame they're all here during the day.'

Didn't I say I wasn't going to get into this?

OK.

Today, I was sent out to shelve books. Way in the back, too. And, yes. There was a man. A rather creepy man who watched me and sucked in through his teeth every so often. Kind of like Hannibal Lecter, but not so dignified.

I didn't give a fuck.

I put all the books up and completely ignored the son-of-a-bitch. If he wants to hurt me, I don't care, I thought.

I don't care.

Every so often, my mind played a trick on me and I could see him coming at me w/a knife, yelling something about whores or women or evil and the blade going into my ribs. This thought neither disturbed or frightened me.

I don't care.

Better me than someone else, right?

Something weird is happening to me. Something that I feared would happen once I threw myself back into the public. I'm not me anymore. Or that's what it feels like. When I'm away from my house, I feel like I am walking in a dream and nothing matters anymore. Sometimes I just want to cry and not stop until I've exhausted myself to sleep.

Except I can't cry.

And when I can't cry, 'accidents' happen.

This is fucked up. I want to know what's wrong w/me and why I can barely focus on something w/out it warping into something scary or sad. I want to know why I disassociate so much in public that I don't even care about dying.

That's enough. I wrote this to try to put everything in words and hopefully gain some insight into what the fuck is going on in my head. Nevermind it.

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