DIFFERENT FORMS OF MEDITATIONS. I needed to run because that is a kind of weeping. You can feel so ashamed of yourself that you cease to communicate with your friends, even communicate trivial things, or only trivial things, and neglect to mention what is more important. I lost a book deal that in reality I never had, and my disappointment has grown, shiny and perfected, ever since, eclipsed and buried. And I haven’t talked about it with anyone—not with H, not in depth, not with S and L, perhaps only with F and N. Perhaps only with F and N and briefly with others—such as S. I’m trying to remember who else. Maybe nobody. C knows but only accidentally. Only incidentally, which is how she knows anything, because it’s not safe for me to count her as a friend. It feels good to run and to get out of the house—but I still feel lonely, without relief, a place I have not allowed myself to inhabit in a long time, and place that if inhabited too eagerly can cause the subject to break down in their interpersonal relationships. I also feel discouraged because I have lost some of the language I only ever knew slimly and which I have not practiced since the beginning of December. Of course I was going to lose some of that language. Perhaps it is insane to think or imagine it would be otherwise—but that’s what I did imagine.
RUNNING IS A FORM OF WEEPING. How did I know that I needed to weep? I’ve begun to say so many careless things, I have begun to view my projections as reality, to allow myself to bend and distort with my minor disappointments. To ignore the boundaries that come before speech and to slip messily into the way of other human beings. I am unguarded and there is little difference between me and the world outside. I was a brat with H on Saturday, and though my feelings were justified there was a more dignified and trusting way to share them. There was a way that respected the difference between us. It was childish to act as I did. I am not used to being able to trust my partner. To trust that tension. I can know that in part my response was the kind I would have had with C, but still I don’t know where it came from.