August 28, 1997
It’s morning. I’m drinking tea I bought in the North, when N. took me on that little trip. It tastes terrible, too watery and too strong all at the same time. I remember drinking it for the first time in the hotel’s garden. N. had already gone out to take care of his business. The tea tasted so good. I sat for hours in the garden, high on caffeine, watching waves of tourists come in for breakfast and those ridiculously cute waiter boys, young and polite in their white shirts and black ties.
One of these days I’m going to have to call N. He doesn’t come by anymore. He knows I can’t stand him. But what? I feel bad for my pettiness. I want to what? be more grown up, take responsibility, not abandon him, let him know I care (do I?). I think I do. I know I do. But it’s requiring a lot of energy to make it to that place right now.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I have no energy and no patience with people. L. wrote to me and said it’s not good to cry, at least he doesn’t want to hear I’ve been crying, he’d much rather hear I’m smiling and laughing. I don’t think this heavy body could move that way. Of course I think this, but as soon as I see somebody, like M. or E., I’m already laughing and having a good time. But some times it feels impossible, or if I did it would all be fake.
Maybe I should do some laugh therapy. I remember seeing this guy on TV when I was a kid, on the show Real People, he was walking on a tread mill while watching a comedy show. He had electrodes taped to his chest, gathering some data. I remember the narrator saying this man had cured his heart disease by laughing. That makes me laugh!
It will be good to have lunch with G today. Later I’ll meet up with D. She has a dress she thinks I will like. There’s a big party at L.’s tonight. It’ll probably be boring and stuffy but M. will be there. I might try and see R. later on. I better start therapy right now.
