pathetic...sorry...

Ugh.

That's what I say -- ugh.

Isn't it just the most frustrating? I hate having no control, waking up and sitting up and falling back again. Being wanted in three directions (needed, debatable, but still wanted -- they're lovely people) and sick in four, left to give only a running fling of effort to each. I would belong, but I have to belong to so many other things too. Oh, for this summer, when I had just one good thing to drain my life into, kill myself over -- I don't mind that at all, when something is actually accomplished by it. Just this bothers me, the multitude of things half-done.

I don't like being sick. And I don't like being a girl, to wake up crying because my subconscious registered the alarm clock and knows I'm going to make it get up now, even though it can't. I should think it much easier to be grouchy when tired than weepy. And I really don't like beginning to die slowly every month, getting weaker and whiter until suddenly the powers that be decide I may live for another few weeks, and I am whole for a little while longer. I really don't understand that. Bethy and I have decided that girls are completely illogical creatures, and ought to be locked away. That might be nice, actually. Ugh, I say.

Thankfully, I only run a fever like this once a year or so. Thankfully, because it always lasts for two weeks and I lose about fifteen pounds.
-- oh! college monies!! I just need to find a method for that, and then I can write a book and sell lots of copies to the diet-crazed American public. It's all-natural, guaranteed, and ever so easy -- will power is only required to force yourself to eat, and friends and family members are good at that. No obsessive psychological complexes or cultural manias necessary. Just one pain pill a day...

I'm sorry. I complain. It has been a lovely week, really it has -- I just long to be all here...

I can't live like this, not with the madness we plan. Oh, God, I'm so tired...I do want to run, You know I do, but You also know that I can't...but won't You drag me along behind You anyways? Don't untie the cords, please...I don't care if it hurts, whether I am a callus or a bruise, as Daddy says; I don't even care if I die -- it's the only way, God, and oh, how I want to get somewhere...