Airplane

Last week I blew myself up.

It didn't hurt or anything, but I was sent to my room for three days as punishment.

I probably deserved it. The whole thing was pretty silly. But I needed to do it.

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"Did it hurt?"

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Nothing has really changed. The doctor said it'll take around 6 weeks for me to feel the changes. Til then, I'll just be doing the same thing.
I haven't figured out how I will react to these changes. More importantly, I haven't figured out how I will react to others reacting to my changes. I know that blowing myself up has permanently changed a part of me, but I want to know if it's change for the better.

A loss of control is scary. It's scary to think that you wont have control over something will change you. It's hard to accept that something happened, or will happen, and you have no say in the outcome. It's not that we crave control. It's that we don't trust cruise control. We need to know that we're in control of who we are, where we're going.

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"Whatever you're doing is okay. You are okay."

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Coffee shops are the only place I can write. Even though I've lived alone for more than two years, I only feel alone when I'm in a coffee shop. I'm around groups of friends, couples, dates, study groups. I can only be alone when I'm around others that aren't. I feel like I'm always around people when I'm home.
I can't write when I'm not alone. I get distracted. People can be distracting. They're sobering.

I had dinner with friends last night at this Mexican restaurant. We sat outside. I remember an airplane flew over us. A friend from Austria was visiting. I sat in my chair, with an empty margarita cup precipitating onto the concrete ground through the table's grate-y surface. I was looking at the puddle of water and feeling alone.

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"How long are you visiting?"

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