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    Tuesday, January 29th, 2008

    Where I'm calling from

    I'm horrible, horrible, and I hate when I do this, because it was the worst part of last year, when I would lose my cool at the most inexplicable times and shout nonsensical things like "I AM NOT ENOUGH" and "THIS IS ALL I DO." I had such an A+ day today, with invitations and tickets and physical activity and progress, and I wanted to call and say, "Guess what an A+ day I had today?" Instead, the second she picked up the phone I soured. I neglected what my original news, reverted to one word answers like she was the one who had called me at a ridiculous time, and hung up. The only thing said worth remembering in the five minutes was this:

    "Are you mad at me because I don't have the answers?"

    One hundred percent. I'm mad because I always feel like I can't tell people real things anymore. I can't say, Ahhh I'm so excited I can hardly sleep because my article will be out in the morning!! or Last night I lay in bed taking pictures of my feet and realized that no one would ever find that cute or This number right here proves how smart I am, and I look at it everyday like it's some kind of achievement or I think I have a cyst but I'm pretending that I'm pregnant. I don't know whose fault it is that I can't open up anymore. And by I don't know whose fault it is, I mean clearly it is my own fault. I mean the reason I keep unleashing these unfair insinuations of your fault your fault your fault on my mother is that she's the only one I know will cry afterwards. I mean I'm getting desperate enough for some kind of reciprocation of feeling that I'll draw tears if I have to.

    I mean that the next time we talk, I am going to pretend like you haven't read this, and you're going to do the same, and we're going to continue with the "fine good great seriously" way of living. And so having established that:

    I am sad, and I don't know how to say so.

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