Another Waste of Time August 10, 2002 - 11:56 p.m.

Today was full of tiny bits of moving but mostly large chunks of waiting. One cool thing... we were turning the tv on, as background noise, and were somehow able to pick up cable channels. It wasn't hooked up to a cable, simply an antenna. And the picture wasn't very clear at all, but it was still pretty groovy. We sat and watched one of the movie channels for awhile during one of our many waits.

My ex-boyfriend drove me home. Talk about awkward. At least it was only a 5 minute drive.

The feeling of unwanted eyes along your skin. Tracing the hairs on the back of your neck. Your skin trying it's best to run from the stares, yet only succeeding in chaotic twitches. The desire to take lit matches to the eyes of this unrelenting, intangible sort of violation. The stomach begins churning. Food and acid and whatever else mixing and tumbling, ready to roll out without a moment’s notice. Every little strand of hair is mimicking the skin and running. Running far yet no where at all. Running for freedom on a supercharged treadmill. Trying to get away. Trying to fight back. Trying to be anything other than helpless and crying. Fingernails come in to aid the escape. Scratching at the skin. The hair. The little spots of rampant annoyance. Shoulders try to shrug the feeling away. And the eyes... they never stop. Why won’t they look away and allow comfort to enter the room again?

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