10.21

Maybe I’m in a fugue state.

I remembered that article and found it this morning, but didn’t re-read it because A: it will describe what a “fugue state” is in such a way that will prove that I am not experiencing one and that means I have something that is not temporary or B: it will describe in such a way that I will realize that this is exactly what I am experiencing and it is horrible.

This morning I wanted to call my mom. I also wanted to call Z. She’s a doctor. But we agreed not to talk. I didn’t call anyone. I picked my car at the garage and started driving, but only after I put the shit-phone in a Ziploc bag my mom’s cookies had been in so I could take it with me.

I put it on the passenger’s seat to remind me that I had really gone crazy and hadn’t just imagined that I had gone crazy. And I guess to demonstrate that I was still crazy. Occasionally I touched it through the bag. I didn’t use it to call Pastor again.

I think I started crying an hour or so in the drive because I was feeling really lonely, but maybe I started crying because Montana is so beautiful. I was thinking that when I started crying. I felt like I was listening to a song I love and really getting into it, but I had on a book on tape, which I wasn’t listening to. God I miss Z. I feel really anxious.

Today, I kept thinking that I was going to loose control of the car. Also when I was going down a steep hill a truck came barreling down fast right behind me and only changed lanes at the last minute. I thought he was going to kill me. Then I thought about what my life might be like if I really did just have a psychotic break. I thought, up until now, I’ve always thought about my life in terms of what it might become, what might happen to me in the future. But now, if I’m really sick, I’m going to think about my life in terms of what it had been up until now. I’m crying right now. That seems narcissistic. Or is it crazy? Is that what I'd do if I was crazy? Sit in a hotel room in Missoula MT and cry? Fuck it. I’m going to let myself cry.

I started this new blog because a few days ago, before I left MPLS, I ran into one of my parent’s neighbors, the father of a kid my age. I always really hated his son. He was an asshole. The dad was an asshole too. The neighbor said hi and then asked me about Z and why was I home, what happen to Uganda. I was confused. He said my dad had emailed him my blog address – the one I had been writing in Uganda – and he’d been reading it. I really didn’t like that.

I haven’t told anyone about this blog. I didn’t put my name on it. I was going to tell people – Z maybe and a few others who might be interested, but now, no. It feels really nice right now to write here without anyone to read it. I feel really lonely and really anxious.

The drive was beautiful today. I took pictures as I drove in spite of everything. There were all different kinds of mountains. Blue ones with snow and brown rocky piles with pine trees. I saw a lot of horses. Plenty of horses. I pulled over and watched a brown one chase a white one in a fenced in enclosure.