08.25.2006 - 1:13 p.m.

I'm doing it again.

Everything that matters is left waiting for me to dig my head out of the sand and tell someone I'm overwhelmed.

I'm digging, but not towards the surface.

Quit my game for the week, because I wasn't sure I could stay away from it. Not answering my phone, because it'll just be my mother and she'll just harp on me, and I can't avoid reality properly with her voice yapping in my ear. Or it'll be some vendor I forgot to call back. Even better. Haven't done shit with the house, the planning, or the pile of work that's been growing all summer. Hate self for procrastinating. Cannot seem to stop. The worse it gets the more I fucking smile as if everything is under control, because apparently it is inconceivable that I could be human, or flawed, or...human.

I did water the plants yesterday. Five small, ripe tomatoes that don't belong to me are sitting on the counter. They smell warm and earthy and alive. And my friend just called as I was writing this. I need to remember that in real life too, in real life especially, there are voices that soothe, reasons to be glad to be a human.

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