Two windows in my bedroom and from one, laying on my bed, I watched sometimes the rain and sometimes the snow. The day give out and the ambient street light, and some times a plane leaving the airport in the distance.
Over the roof of the house across the street. Over the trees. Over the power lines. In the day a steady shining plane and in the night a light, or sometimes two, gliding from right to left across my view. The plane happily fulfilling its purpose and the people happily or unhappily or ambivalent, awake or asleep or somewhere in between, not so far from me going somewhere far from me. I lay on my bed and sometimes we exist together, though they don't understand that I am with them.
November in Burlington.
We moved here six weeks ago. Elle and I were renting a room downtown. She worked from our room most of the day and I had taken a job in a kitchen and quit two weeks later. I panic when people are watching me. My vision becomes static and blurred and my heart races and my face and body get hot, and my mind screams at me. Screams Q U I T. Screams the truth of me. Screams all of the things it normally only whispers. But I have to keep it going. Keep it together. Keep working. Keep working. Keep working. Learn to understand my total lack of value and my total inability to be a human being or to offer anything at all to anyone regardless of my desire to and then I took an administrative job in a hospital. I also had been offered an administrative position for a hotel chain, both of which had been offered to me because I had lied on my resume and through interviews and I am okay to look at and I am also an okay liar, but not qualified for those (or any) positions, as far as I am concerned.
Snow.
Snow fucking everywhere.
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