XXXVII: The Demons Bite Back

I know I haven’t posted in a while. After my impassioned conversation with Clarke last week I decided to give my head a rest. I was supposed to face my demons, but I don't know if I'm quite ready yet. I asked Mr. Hung for some extra shifts at the restaurant. I thought it might distract me. It didn’t. Now I’m stressed out from days of long shifts and an unsettled mind. I haven’t been to the Trees in more than a week, but I‘ve been thinking about them incessantly. Also, without meaning to, I've cut back on cigarettes, alcohol, and weed. I feel awful.

Larissa came over last night to offer me a Popsicle. I accepted. We sat on my front steps talking about all the things she’d done over the summer. Camp, vacation, and two boyfriends. School begins next week, and she’s dreading it. I don’t blame her.

Autumn looms.

Larissa went home. I wandered inside, sober for the seventh day in a row, to examine a parcel sitting on my kitchen table. It arrived yesterday. Someone anonymously mailed me a photocopy of another Masters Thesis proposal on the Trees. I’m not sure what to make of that.

Several times this week I've caught myself sitting on the edge of my bed, or on the couch, staring into space, focused on nothing. In fact, that's what I was doing just before I wrote this.