She hasn't even responded which means that not only is friday as unlikely but she also doesn't even see me as important enough to deserve a proper response. Fair enough I guess, I mean who am I to her? Nobody, an irritation, an irrelevant child who she is willing to be polite to but wishes would just disapear. Doesn't stop it from feeling like someone hooked my intestines with an eye hook and then tied it to a speeding bullet train. So I must recede, must push inwards to find the damage wherever it may be and repair it best I can leaving the traditional inner scars that only I can see inside of me. Then I should spackle up the remnants of my shell, paint it with teflon, and never open it again.
In the bitter cold people are supposed to huddle together for warmth. But what happens when you have nobody at all to huddle with? When the only friends and family you have are snowmen? You wrap whatever warmth you have around you, bury into the snow, and rely on the very thing that is making you cold to keep you warm. That's what I have to do now, stop hugging snowmen and getting covered in the icy stuff and just turn inwards. I know I'm defective, that there's something inherintly wrong with me as a person that keeps me from forming meaningful contact, but I'm all I have right now so....*shrug*. Fixing yourself from the inside is an interesting process. It somewhat resembles trying to knock down a brick wall with your head (something else that I've tried, although I gave up after 20-30 blows because even as a youngling I realized that my head would give in before the wall did) in that it's exceedingly painful and even if you succeed you don't get through without damage. But it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make right now. Becuase I'm unhappy anyway and if I'm going to be miserable I might as well be useful. But to get useful I need to succeed in school and I can't POSSIBLY do that in this state. So I will do what I have to.
The future is mine right? I control my own destiny. But does it matter that I can pick any direction when the whole fucking world feels like a frozen tundra? I'd sit down and cry but my tears would freeze in the ducts and I'm running low on them anyway. Last night they came in waves and at times I couldn't even figure out what I was crying over.
At least one issue has been resolved. It doesn't matter if a world is gray or in color when everything's covered in frigid eye-searing white.