, , , , , , , , ,

Reflection from June 17th, 2011 @ Age 29


What am I doing?  I think that is mania you see there, and I think I’m coming down now.  God, it’s so bizarre, I can’t even believe this is happening.  Gabrielle called to talk and I was completely embarrassed I had even written her that question about dreams coming true.  I mean, who talks like that?  Obviously me I guess.  And then Christopher called and I was too embarrassed to even pick up the phone.  This is not good.  This is not good at all.  I’m rhyming.  This is not good stuff.

I don’t know what I’ve been thinking!  I’ll tell you, that my dream is going to come true, that a book agent would find me and match me up with a publisher, who would pay me an advance to finish my book in two months, that I wouldn’t have to work in the meantime, all the talk shows I would be on to promote the book, how everyone will love me, how beautiful I am; and then how we’re going to split up the assets… 

This is not good at all.  This is bad.

I don’t know what to do.  It feels good to feel but I so quickly loose touch with reality.  Or do I?  See shit, I can’t even tell.  I’m pretty sure I am though, unless that’s what happens to people who are artistically talented—in which case it still could be a loss of touch with reality, I guess just a more justifiable one?  I mean, for art and all.  Fuck.  I feel like I am deflating.  I just realized I stopped writing not just in 2010, but all the while during my relationship with Cooper.  I don’t know what’s going on.  Was that happiness and now I’m changing my meds around (per my doctor though, well…for the mood stabilizers anyways), and I’m about to mess all that up, to lose all of this stability, for a dream…?

But then, what about “what if it doesn’t come true?”  Am I supposed to be okay with losing touch with reality a little bit, just enough so that I can follow my dream?  What if I do fail?  Shit.

And here it comes.  Here comes the doubt.  Gabrielle wasn’t very convincing in her answer to my dreams question.  I mean she answered how I hoped she would, but now I’m paranoid that she thinks I’m acting weird.  But I guess that’s because I’m pretty sure I am acting weird.

We’ll see how it goes tonight with Cooper.  He’s taking me out to dinner at M and I’m really excited to go there—but for some reason I don’t really feel like going right this instant.  I have to go and get ready now.  I can’t wait to see Cooper.  I hope he is in a good mood.  I hope he’s happy to see me and gives me a hug.  I don’t know that it will happen, but I’m hoping for it.  Sometimes it does.  I mean I think he’s usually always happy to see me—even if he doesn’t say it every day or every time he sees me obviously.  That might be a little much.  I like when he gives me hugs when he gets home.  I feel like crying.

I have no happy ending.  Granted I was only looking sporadically through the end of my old journals and my less inspired more recent ones.  But I’m missing the whole Cooper section and I don’t know why.  I don’t know what’s going on.  I think I’ve been thinking too much.  I hope no one ever reads this.  I hope my psychologist didn’t think I was totally acting strange today.  He knows I lowered my mood stabilizer (but per my psychiatrists direction, I promise you).  I’ll have to be sure to act very…very stable, when I see him Tuesday.  No crying if he doesn’t want to read my writing, or if he does and does not like it.  No acting weird.  Oh my god.  I think I don’t want to stop this.  I know what it is, and I don’t want to stop it.  It’s not going to lead to a happy ending Marissa.  It’s going to lead to a lonely one.  You will be alone.  Stop it now.


How in the world am I going to help anyone if I don’t have a happy ending?