Thu, 19 May 2005

siftlike
Pamela said she was lower now, closer to the earth, rooted down into the loam, and I nodded. These calms between storms, these lulls when her life is like everyone else’s, these are the days I cannot take, not knowing what to do when damage control isn’t called for. I know what to do for freakouts, for month-long panic attacks, for jails and juries and graves, but being an adult is a black box I can’t seem to open. Pamela kept talking about insurance difficulties, and I kept nodding, as that’s about all I was good for until the next catastrophe.
(12:25.05.19.2005) [/scrytch] #