running away and hiding. staring at nothing.

i spent eight hours today riding around town and sitting on various benches, staring. sometimes reading. i decided that i associate eating with swallowing one's urges. and so when, like now, i have a hard time eating, it is because i am reluctant to shut my eyes and go to sleep, figuratively speaking. see, it's like a job, this introspection. another day, another useless platitude.

in other news, i feel rather wound up. and frustrated with my emotional paralysis. (is it just me, or do i sound more 'chicken soup for the teenage soul' every day? when am i going to start discussing my salvation at the hands of a loving grandmother or well-meaning teacher? or jesus? "and right there in the pastor's office was when i first felt it: everything was going to be all right.")

nevermind. i feel lisa loeb-fine.