I feel as if I cannot communicate with my world. I believe that my thoughts and ideas make sense, but whenever I try to speak of them to other people, it comes out wrong, tight, controlled, almost drunk. I wish I were articulate and rational. I wish that the communication flowed through me and in me, back and forth, like fluid in the womb. But it surely doesn't. If I'm not hitting a wall, I'm spinning in circles.

Is it too much to ask to be stimulated by my world? Am I too lazy to be happy? Or have I not clearly defined to myself those things that will make me truly happy? I believe that time with friends will fill the void, but when I spend time with friends, I still find things to be unhappy about. Family doesn't fill, love doesn't fill, the sunshine and free air doesn't fill. I'm not full. I am that small figure clutching their knees in the large cathedral of my body.

Is this simply immaturity? A lack of experience?

I must now face the days without the (stifling) blanket of an SSRI and, though it feels good to be free, all moments seem heavier. (Kundera: lighter does seem better.)

The nausea comes and goes.

Today is Wednesday. Did you know that?

Because I'm having a difficult time remembering the days, the dates, what time is. Ever since hearing the news of Gilman, the days have stretched out so long that I feel as if a month has gone by since last Wednesday. As Bilbo says in The Fellowship of the Ring, "I feel thin, stretched, like too little butter over too much bread." Actually, I'm paraphrasing, but I'm sure you see the simile nonetheless.

In The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Kundera discusses the dichotomy between heaviness and lightness and, should they be set up in opposition, which would be considered the transcendental. Most would chose lightness, but in this amazing novel, he constantly poses the question of whether this should be the immediate response or suggestion. Gilman's passing floats through that question. I cannot decide whether this world is now heavier or lighter without him. Life feels heavier, but I feel lighter knowing he is not here anymore. Like when you press your hands against a door jamb for some time and they float up involuntarily upon release. It is a surreal, in-wonderland yearning for him to come back.

So, today is Wednesday. But in my mind, it is just another morning when even happy songs make me sad.