Sunday, May 21, 2006

Sea Change

Blindsided by depression, this weekend has been -- not exactly a wash? I just can't bear to interact with anyone or anything but comfort books: Jean Auel; Carolyn Keene. "Is there anything I can do?" I didn't anticipate how unwelcome, how insulting that question would feel; yet it is the only possible inquiry. The situation is what it is.

I can't ever call her again. Not that I called much before; often, the sight of her number on my cell would cause a violent jerk, eye-rolling: There is nothing to resist now.

I long to be wrapped up in something: immobilized, untouched by anyone: Yesterday I spent 14 hours in bed, unmoving. Only the bedding's weight felt right. Honestly, I long to be mummy-bound in a fetal position, laid in a packing box and slid under the bed to pupate. Send myself in a boat out to sea, for the message's duration. All outer life, at present, is noise.

4 Comments:

Blogger Kate said...

A little noise to say I'm sorry to hear this, and remind you that people you haven't even met think a lot of good thoughts about you. xo

9:32 AM  
Anonymous z said...

I'm sorry, L. I'm thinking of you...

12:12 PM  
Blogger Lillet Langtry said...

oh, thank you so much ladies. it means a lot.

love

L

1:04 PM  
Blogger spillah said...

I'm so sorry, L. Stay in that bed as long as you need to... and we will help you get out when you decide that is what you want.

5:25 PM  

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