It's a bit difficult when you see something you want, and know you can never have it.
As I sit and type, the only other sound in the room is coming from the book case. There's this old clock with a unicorn on it, that has somehow managed to survive the trip from Georgia, to NC, to Tennessee, and back again. The unicorn is missing the very tip of its horn; and a foreleg has been glued back on, multiple times as the old glue wears away. But it is still, more or less, intact.
It is very loud in the room.
My birth certificate came in the mail a couple of weeks ago. Not too long after I'd sent off for it, actually. This surprised me a little, considering the name change. I had expected some sort of confirmation of who I was other than the drivers license I had photocopied and taped to the sheet. Could the rest be as easy, I can only hope.
I grow weary of the tick-tick-tick, so I put on some music. I could just as easily have taken the battery out of the clock, but then the silence would be complete, and this is even more unnerving than the steady pulse of time, ticking away over there by the Tolkien books that have also managed the trip to hell and back.
That, and I'm not sure it's the clock that is ticking away, more like my heart. Beating solo, with apparently no other heart to keep pace with.
At the moment, Dent is in a classroom about 20 miles away. I had to be a bit tough on him this morning. I had to be out the door a little after 4 this morning, and I needed to make sure he was awake before I left. "I'll be awake when the alarm goes off" he tells me (in 30 minutes.)
"Uh.... ,no?" I say. "Get up now..." He laughs. He laughs...I am not laughing. I shouldn't be still having to run him out of bed just so he'll get to work in the morning on time.
Tomorrow ought to be spent putting the Halloween decorations BACK out, now that we're no longer worried about the world floating away.... Or maybe I'll do something totally different. Who knows?
I had to use THAT analogy today. That of a bird beating against a windowpane. That that's my life right now. I'm stifled, and squashed, and bored, and impatient, and maybe, just maybe, a little lonely. I can't breathe, in the mental sense, and I'm not sure I can make anyone understand this. To understand what it truly means.
I suppose I will have to open my own window, as no one seems to be able to do it for me.