Waiting in between the second opening band and Franz I was struck intensely by panic. That I my plane will crash. That I will be dead tomorrow. This was quickly followed by an imaginary sequence of rapid fire events. That for T and D, their last memory of me would be there, at the concert. That perhaps they would try to tell other people that at least I my last days were spent having fun. Who would know which holiday gift was for whom when they arrived at my office? Who would tell Mr.Aloof? In fact, who would tell most of my diaspora of friends? Someone would have to clean out my desk at work. My home. My parents would be sad. And I felt this sickness, through the core of my being. The urge to get out of where I was, get away, run from the future that was suddenly so clear. Because I don't want these things. I don't want to die.
And then it passed. It was acute and intense and strange when it hit. I know it's the underlying stress I have all the time, but it's not normal for it to materialize so clearly, before a flight, during my regular life.
Anyway. This morning I managed to do some of my packing, and was also not-so-pleasantly surprised by the arrival of my period. Like I've needed any additional crazy or things going on in my head this past week. I was less than thrilled.
Tonight is the design show which I'm really looking forward to, and another opportunity for Mr.Aloof to stand me up. The thing is, I know he wants to see me, and he knows I want to see him, but he's just too fucking busy. I didn't hear a word from him yesterday. And I sent him a text late last night and no word yet today. Which means I'm not going to see him later on. Which is only frustrating because for some reason he won't just tell me "I'm too busy and I can't see you.", but instead gives me the hope that we can meet and then pulls a runner. Which is really, not a good way to behave.
Anyway. I really don't want to die on Friday, or the following Saturday/Sunday. So I'm sure I'll be back again soon to my regular quirky blogging. And it won't be until February and my as-of-yet unconfirmed trip with S that I'll have to deal with the phobia again.
1 comment:
for some reason he won't just tell me "I'm too busy and I can't see you."
- he's a guy this is a common way of dealing with things. think it will happen and it will become so, which is the alternative to don't think about it at all.
If it would put your mind at rest you can write a will...I could witness it...
or alternatively just don't die...
I prefer the latter...
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