Midnight

The Nightshade Princess
2002-06-16 06:43:18 (UTC)

Creativity gone mad

I am now visiting with my Aunt. I may not be home on
Sunday eve as I once thought... it looks like sometime on
Monday. I have had some awful mood swings of late, and my
insomnia is worsening. I swear that I must be the only
person on earth who returns from a vacation more high
strung that when she left, but then much has happened. I
miss my love terribly. I long to hear his voice, to look
deeply into his eyes. Hopefully when I do return, he,
Matt, and I shall all go out once more.
I would continue with my ghastly little expose' of
father's bullshit, but I have tired of speaking of him for
now, as the last time someone mentioned him, my appetite
vanished and I started trembling.
My cousin and I have discovered that we have a
telepathic bond (occasionally it is "tele-pathetic"). We
just know, and we speak without words often enough for the
rest of the family to notice. It's wonderful, really. I
don't recall if I've explained that yet, but if I have, it
is worth mentioning more than once.
My feet are healing well after the surgery. I do heal
quite quickly, and everyone is rather surprised. My only
real problem is forgetting to take my antibiotic, and
keeping any sort of schedule with meals. I swear I am
going to come back to my town with at least 5 extra pounds
on me, and I do not like it. Everyone keeps throwing food
my way, and it makes me wonder whether my mother has told
them of my problem. Of course no one knows about the OTHER
side of that loathesome coin - the compulsive eating which
occasionally overtakes me. I cannot help any of it...
either I have no appetite and do not eat (or food of any
sort makes me sick), or else I cannot stop even when I am
not hungry, and I can't taste it anyway. ::sighs:: oh
well. This is one more thing which I must somehow make
peace with.
I had another of my creative episodes. Ordinarily,
this would be considered a good thing. However, it occured
when everyone was eating out. This was DEFINATELY a
negative aspect. For those who do not know, my "creative
moods" do not come as quiet bursts of inspiration. They
occur when my mind is unballanced for some reason or other,
and feel as though my mind is coming apart and my nerves
are being shaken to bits. Sometimes, I tremble
physically. My eyes change colour often, and I feel
control slipping away like an ill-fitting mask. My heart
rate tends to surge, as does compulsive behavior and
extreme irritability. When I am in "the zone," heeding the
not-so-gentle call, I often loose all touch with the
outside world. Invariably, I become disoriented and
dizzy. I trance automatically, and I begin.
This time, I think I was picking up on my
grandmother's drunken energy, the heat of the room, my
insomnia, and the close proximity to other humans. My mind
found a picture of maggots floating in the clear glass
bottle of amber-coloured salad dressing, which had
separated into layers, one a watery liquid (probably
vinegar), and the other a mixture of oil and crumbly
looking herbs. I saw the jumble of herbs become a swimming
glob of maggots, twisting to get free, some rising from the
wormy knot and falling or wriggling toward the bottom. It
was repulsive, yet entrancing, as the liquid had such a
beautiful colour to be so horribly tainted. My mind spun
through a dozen different images, concepts for stories and
poetry, designs for clothing... all at once. Someone asked
me if I was alright, and I tried to explain, my words
tripping over themselves as they left my lips, as they
always do. I cannot speak straight either when I am this
way, and my voice sounds far away and foreign.
At any rate, tomorrow - actually today for it is 2:30
AM as I write this - is Father's day. I have gotten father
nothing. I considered a card, but they were all so fake
and patronizing, and we would both know I did not mean it.
He is NOT the best father on earth, he is NOT always there
to help me, he is NOT a religious person, he is NOT a gold-
hearted anything. He is the sort of person who demanded at
first that I come home from visiting this place for
Father's day, who got angry and impatient with my mother,
yet whose only plans for the day were to go out on his
fuckin' boat and leave me home alone all day. He told
mother at first that he was going to see my other
grandparents, but they only taunt me for my appearance then
ignore me, and my mother knew this. He is the sort of
father who blames me for my mother never returning to him.
He is the father of lies. Happy fuckin' father's day.