>>From: Belacqua
>>To: Perdita
>>Subject: Re: all too sober
>>Date: Mon, 4 Dec 2000

I'm so tired I can hardly move. I've been motionless on the couch for over an hour with my eyes closed, and I still can't fucking fall asleep. I have absolutely no energy, and my brain only feels like it's operating on half-speed. In addition, the fucking grounds maintenance crew is outside cutting the dead grass and trimming the non-existent impositions of the grass on the sidewalks and making a hell of a lot of noise. I really hate when people do pointless shit like that. It's about 40 degrees outside. That grass isn't fucking growing anymore.

I made it to half my classes today. For the third week in a row, I haven't been to biology. I really could care less what I make in that class, as long as I pass it and don't ever have to take it again. That kind of shit used to interest me, but now it's so fucking boring I can't stand it. I'm in no danger at all of failing that class, so who fucking cares if I show up or not. It's an enormous lecture class, and if I stopped the lecturer on the street, she wouldn't have a fucking clue who I was.

I really didn't feel all that bad yesterday. I just kind of sat down all day and stared vacantly at the TV. I don't know that I said more than two sentences aloud, and that was only when a friend came up to give me some leftover pizza. It's gotten that bad, I guess. My friends are so desperate for me to eat something that they're sending me food. I guess it's nice that they're concerned and all. It was a good pizza, too. It had feta cheese, spinach, artichoke hearts, and regular mozzarella cheese and pizza sauce. The best part was that it didn't leave anything to clean up. Anyway, that was my human contact for the day.

There's still so much dog hair in my carpet. It's kind of sad. I don't miss him barking at everybody and having to walk him five times a day, but I do miss having him here when I get back from school. Clyde was so quiet and out of the way, and he was always on edge. I swear that dog had my exact personality. It was spooky. But I think I was making him depressed. Last I heard from Cassandra, he was a totally different dog: more animated, more alive. I know when I used to break down and cry, he'd lay down next to me and whimper, so I guess it's better for him, anyway.

I don't even know what I'm writing this paper about for tomorrow. I am the worst student in the world, and I still haven't completely fucked up. I think I can write a paper on Joyce's Dubliners, and since I'm a self-proclaimed Joyce expert, it shouldn't be too difficult.

The magnificent Emily Dickinson yet again:

I like a look of agony,
Because I know it's true;
Men do not sham convulsion,
Nor simulate a throe.

The eyes glaze once, and that is death.
Impossible to feign
The beads upon the forehead
By homely anguish strung.

I'm surprised by her the more I read her. She writes with complete raw talent untainted by other people telling her how she should write. When she starts writing about god and all that shit, I skip over it, but she had an incredible insight to death.

Perdita, you are absolutely amazing to me. Before I met you, I didn't think there was a being on Earth who had any idea of how I felt inside because it’s so much worse than people with physical traumas and things like that in their past, people who know where their feelings are coming from. I'm sure other people feel bad too, but not like this...out of nowhere...with no cause except "for the hell of it." That inability to find the root magnifies it so much. So many people who hurt kill themselves. You hurt like I do, and you're trapped here by the same obligations to others. For the first time in my entire life I can go to someone with how I feel, and you understand the pain, and you realize that you can't do anything more than be there. Everybody tries to fix it or compensate for it, and all I'm asking for is understanding and empathy, which no one but you could or can provide. I don't know how much any of that makes sense. I'm having a hard time comprehending anything right now, especially the forms of my thoughts. I'm sure the content of what I'm saying is there somewhere, I just don't know if it’s intelligible.

Anyway, if I don't at least try to start this paper soon, it's not going to get done. What's really frustrating is that as soon as I get this one out of the way, there's one twice as long looming ominously on the horizon. I can't wait.

Another day closer to Friday....

I love you.
Belacqua

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>From: Perdita
>To: Belacqua
>Subject: Re: all too sober
>Date: Mon, 4 Dec 2000

Belacqua,

Those big lecture classes in school were the worst. I had a Shakespeare class my freshman year that had 200 students. I had to do a twenty-minute walk in ten minutes every time I tried to go to that class, and I was always late and frustrated, so I just quit going. I bought two of the five plays we were supposed to read, I missed at least two-thirds of the lectures, and I still managed to get a C somehow. I don't know how that happened. I'd never even heard of some of the plays we were supposed to read, and I passed my exams anyway. College is dumb. That mentality totally fucked me up on my smaller classes for awhile, though, because attendance was a big part of the grade. But whatever.

I think it's great that your friend brought you food yesterday. That's a really cool thing for a friend to do, given that he can't really understand everything that's going on. I don't know anyone who would do that for me. Of course, I don't really have a problem remembering to eat (she says as she realizes she's only had a scone to eat today).

Somewhere towards the end of my college career, I realized that if I made a deal with myself to finish writing my papers before allowing myself to write any more poems, I'd get the papers done twice as fast. It was pretty amazing. I was so passionate about getting to my poetry that I'd finish the papers before I even realized what was going on. I don't know if that would help you at all, but it certainly helped me.

It's almost time for me to go home now (thank god), so I should probably get going. I hope you can finally find some sleep at some point, and good luck with your papers.

I love you.
Perdita