Light

I hunted for light,

thinking,
This is precisely why I fucking hate winter. Except that I can’t even hate winter right now, because not even the weather is on my side this week. It’s balmy and sunny and beautiful out, and it was only later tonight, when I got caught in the pouring rain, drenched, soaked to the skin, did I finally find some small satisfaction in how utterly miserable this all was.

I met my roommate halfway up the stairs to our room, both of us dripping, hair plastered like yarn strands down the back of our necks, sticky on our cheeks, and when we got home, we started to change into dry clothes. And she said how she’d been crying in the rain, because of everything, and I said I had been too, and we looked at each other and didn’t have to say anything. Just put our wet clothes back and on went back out in the pouring rain and jumped in puddles until everything was wet. I might get sick later on, but I don’t care.

And after that, I put on the warmest, flannely pajamas I have, and a sweater, and crawled back under my covers. I put my favorite CD in, the one a friend made me for my seventeenth birthday, and I stared at the wall again, and put the CD on repeat, and fell asleep, just like that. Which is what I did last night. I shut down and slept.

People have been asking me if I’m okay, and it’s hard to find a socially acceptable answer to that.

I’ve honestly wanted to say:

“WHAT DO YOU FUCKING THINK, OF COURSE I’M NOT OKAY.  I have had piles and piles and piles of shit just shoveled on me in the last 72 hours and at least three people I know have informed me that I should have been a quivering ball of jelly in the corner of some psychiatric ward right now, because all of these things are more than enough for one person at any given time. I am just lucky enough to get them all at once. OF COURSE I’M NOT OKAY. I need an immense amount of willpower to wake up in the morning. I don’t want to see people. Not many people, anyway. If I don’t want to see you, don’t take it personally. If I want to see you, hold me and let me cry. I respect a few people so much more, knowing what an act of courage it is to walk out into the world again and again and again, when all you feel like doing is hugging your pillows and staring at the wall and listening to the CD you got for your seventeenth birthday. So no. I’m not okay. None of my shit is together. I am the girl who always has her shit together. I am the motherfucking queen at having my shit together. I do not fall apart. I do not lose my temper. I do not wear yoga pants and flannel and sweatshirts to classes. I do not call in sick to work. I do not push people away. So what do you think, do you think I’m okay, knowing that all of these things have happened at least once in the last 72 hours? Draw your own conclusions.”

And then, on the other hand:

“Yes,” I want to say, “yes, I’m okay, because I’m alive, because we’re pulling together as a family, because I have wonderful friends, because I’m not going to kill myself or spiral into depression, because I know there exist an infinite amount of people who are not okay, and me saying that I am not okay is a slap in the face to them. I can still see beauty. I have all my fingers and toes and sight and hearing. I am surrounded by people who love me. I will get through this. I will wake up in the morning and I will say “Fuck you” to the larger world, and go out the door, and grimly stare the world down until I can adequately handle everything again. And a lot of people won’t be doing that. So yes, I’m okay.”

The worst is the pity.

I do not want to have to explain a personal situation to every single person I know on this campus. I don’t want people saying “I’m sorry for your loss” just off the cuff, and then move onto a personal description of their weekend. No. Fuck that. If you’re sorry, really sorry, fine, tell me that, I appreciate your thoughts and your prayers more than I can ever express, but if you honestly don’t give a shit, don’t say anything at all. I can deal with that a lot better than bullshit right now. My tolerance for bullshit is frighteningly low.

I have gone on three walks. I have lost my temper and yelled multiple times. I have contemplated not sleeping in my suite. I was almost physically sick this morning. I have burst into tears way more than I care to count. I have done no work. Thank God I’m leaving campus on Thursday to go be with my family.

But back to me hunting for light. My Tumblr right now is filled with tiny sparks of light. Little Christmas tree bulbs or a candle in the window or little photos with light in them. I need that. I am blessed with wonderful friends. You keep me sane. You are the reason that at least a quarter of my shit is together right now, the reason why I am not that blubbering ball in the corner of the psychiatric ward. And you know what? In thirteen days, I can go home for good. (And then three days later the world ends. Maybe this is like the pre-apocalyptic shitshow, you know, before the end of the world really starts cranking.)

Okay.

Phew.

I will leave all of us with this Tumblr image: