I just thought I was doing so well...

keeping busy, not letting my self fall into the normal dark little trains of thought, keeping the music (not too dark) going in my room to stave off lonely night thoughts when I might havve worried about so much and instead let the music and the candlelight and the book or the project wash over me and fill my consciousness. On the way from the airport Fluffy told stories about the rapes at her campus and a man who has ben sneaking in girls' rooms at night to watch them, sometimes cut their cloths off them. That sort of thing makes me so aware that I sleep next to a big window. That's been going on far away though, north of Seattle. It's so quiet here at night, I need to keep the music going until after I pass out. I haven't slept more than six hours in a row yet. I wasn't self-depricating until you thought I was falling and that make me suspect that I am, somewhere in the back ground falling, even though I've been so carefully not doubting/blaming myself. I had thought I was being so good and brave. But you think I'm falling apart. So maybe I am. Maybe I'm fine. I shouldn't start doubting myself just because you do.