What to say? (to self)

I'm imploding- afraid to go to sleep because I don't want to wake up into tomorrow.  Each day delivers new death notices, forebodings, warnings, fears; all of which I have to sign for.  I watch the lives we've built out of sandstone slowly disintegrate.  Whiplash of wind, water-boarding rain drops.  It gets harder to breathe; my chest is heavy, my stomach sick.

This week was the pits.  We ended up buying platters from Crate & Barrel in preparation for Thanksgiving.  I hated them; they are white, plain, dull- like my job, like me; I couldn't stand the sight of them.  I was surprised at my own reaction, glaring at the platters with tempestuous rage.  I wanted to shatter them, to see them crack into thousands of sharp bits, to hear them separate into the same brokenness as me.  Crate & Barrel's dinnerware is overpriced and boring- I said that we could buy the same things, only with more flair and personality from anywhere else, Target, Ikea, World Market.  Vowing to go to Target this weekend and getting some better ones myself, I went with my friend, C; he drove me in a Zip car on the errands.  We walked around Target, and walked around, and walked around aisles like a hall of mirrors; the platters and cutlery were exactly the same as Crate & Barrel's; yes, it was a tad cheaper, but simply white all the same.  The only pieces with color and life were unfortunately marked with giant snowflakes or Christmas trees.  Making the most out of the trip, I decided to buy a few odd items that we still needed: a butter dish, a salad bowl.

There was a sale on some nice dinnerware, combinations of dishes, bowls and coffee mugs; I actually really liked it, and we needed a set of 8 for Thanksgiving.  I didn't buy them though, as I wanted to sleep on it, and have G come back with me to see them for himself.  So we did, today.  The southbound El was inoperable, so we took a bus down to Target.  We headed for the dishes, and the sale was gone.  The dishes still sat there, smiling at me; but they were no longer on sale.  My stomach popped.  I slumped.  All that way for the one thing, and it flitted off.

It's not about the platters, really.  It's about that great big god in the sky making a joke of me.  Poking me with that same finger he stretched out to Adam and then pulling it back to a place I'm unable to grasp or retaliate, god laughs in my ringing earaches and that looming quiet.