Thursday, December 25, 2003
Well, not my favorite way to spend a holiday. Didn't even get out to see one of the dozen or so movies opening up today; just sat in bed feeling sorry for myself.
When I finally did get up at around noon, I just had no ambition. It was just a random day off in the middle of the week, where everyone else was having a good time and being happy. I know it's petty to feel angry at the rest of the world for that, but I'm just so sick of not having a handle on my life. I was getting by. I was to the point where I could be amused and philosophical about my situation most of the time. Sure, when I sat down to write about it, the more serious, melancholy thoughts had a way of coming through, but that wasn't the sum total of my feelings. There were things that felt good, funny, enjoyable.
Now, I just feel guilty. Just getting showered and dressed this morning, I felt like some kind of pervert, like I was somehow violating Michelle at that very moment by seeing her body naked and making it do what I wanted. Like this was some kind of sick control fantasy. And maybe it is, but it's not mine. And then, when I think of the sex... Oh, god. If it wasn't Michelle that stuck me in this body, if it was some third party, then it doesn't take a whole lot of twisting semantics to say that I raped her, or was party to it. Sure, I didn't suspect that Michelle might not have been responsible for the whole switching thing, but I should have at least considered the possibility that she wasn't responsible, and that whatever flimsy justification I had for using her body for whatever made me feel good at the time is nothing more than rationalization.
And then it's Christmas, and I've got no presents under my tree. I felt so alone. I spent the afternoon watching DVDs with the directors' commentaries turned on, so that it felt like someone was talking to me. How pathetic is that?
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