2006-10-16/1:00 a.m.

hickory, dickory, dock.

its on nights like this; quiet silent, so dark that i doubt dawn will arrive, the winter cold creeping in, time seems to stop and yet slip by when i turn my back; that i feel paradoxically so at peace and so utterly terrified.

i worry that he will die or that i wont.
i worry that this is all there is and i will never learn to appreciate it.
i worry not that i am slipping, for i am certain that i am, but that i will never regain my footing.
i worry that i am too needy, too anxious, and that he is just waiting for me to be happy enough to break up with me, ie he is afraid i will hurt myself more than he will hurt me.
i worry that psychodoc is right.
i worry that psychodoc is wrong.
i worry that my contributions have already been made, that i have peaked, that i have no reason to live other than to delay the suffering of others in place of my own.

i should just shut up and do my work. in a few days all of this work will be over, whether or not i finish it, and i shall be in ottawa, with family and friends and the cats.

sigh.