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i was depressed when the accident occurred, and for a few weeks i have simply not had time to be depressed. then just in the last few days i've--lost my balance. anyway, i think the shock has worn off. i'm feeling depressed in this pathetic, lethargic, flat and dull, sardonic way. i am not a jaded person, because i just don't have any experience for that to come out of, but you could show me ANYTHING right now, and i would be unimpressed. my current default reaction is a scornful, world-weary 'that figures.' followed by wandering off with a pounding headache, probably ending with me sobbing exhaustedly. just for a few minutes, though. that's how exhausted i am.
daddy asked me how i was today--the day before, too, i think. i just couldn't answer. he's the one i tell. i say it sucks, and i think out loud for just a bit (i normally detest people who think out loud. i want to tell them to shut up), and i cry and he lies and tells me everything's all right, which is the prerogative of a dad. but he's so weak. he's spending twenty hours out of twenty-four lying there unable to move struggling not to go mad and he can't tell when he's awake or dreaming and he's been delirious. i talked to him the other day, and he was afraid to fall asleep because he thought he wasn't in a real chair (he thought it was a stack of chair-shaped cutouts of pressboard. and he had decided earlier in the day that he must be the partial skull of an ancient relative of the whale). he's had a fever for going on two weeks. since i mostly use him for talking to, if he never walks again, the biggest problem is feeling guilty and sympathetic. but what if he stays fragile? there's no one else i can talk to.
daddy asked me how i was today--the day before, too, i think. i just couldn't answer. he's the one i tell. i say it sucks, and i think out loud for just a bit (i normally detest people who think out loud. i want to tell them to shut up), and i cry and he lies and tells me everything's all right, which is the prerogative of a dad. but he's so weak. he's spending twenty hours out of twenty-four lying there unable to move struggling not to go mad and he can't tell when he's awake or dreaming and he's been delirious. i talked to him the other day, and he was afraid to fall asleep because he thought he wasn't in a real chair (he thought it was a stack of chair-shaped cutouts of pressboard. and he had decided earlier in the day that he must be the partial skull of an ancient relative of the whale). he's had a fever for going on two weeks. since i mostly use him for talking to, if he never walks again, the biggest problem is feeling guilty and sympathetic. but what if he stays fragile? there's no one else i can talk to.
