"Tuesday, and the week is already terrible,"
or, "I wish people would stop saying things, because I just can't take it."

1. The thing about Mother's Day is, I'm getting really good at fake family togetherness. My older brother is still the champion, but I'm very impressive. For hours, I sat and I smiled and I made them laugh and I resisted the urge to jump up and leave. Aside from my older brother and I, or maybe featuring my older brother and I, the whole thing was an illustrated guide to The Problem with Families. Sometimes I notice things about my family that are especially startling because I'm not noticing them all of the time. Because I'm used to it. I don't want to be used to these kinds of things. I don't want her to keep telling these terrible stories, because we all know how it was, and I don't want her to laugh while she tells them, because they aren't funny.

2. I was looking at another list, and I added something to it about the things I see in my sleep, and somebody else wrote, "YES." At first I was glad, but now I think I may be better off not knowing that other people can see it too.

3. Today I'm afraid to talk to anyone, because people are good and good and good, and then they're disappointing. Then everything goes flying everywhere. Last night was one of those nights when things sink in, and I didn't like it. I guess I was holding on to an idea that was always impossible. I wish I could stop doing that. This, now, might actually be enough to make me stop holding on to this one thing. Finally, and I'm disappointing too, because it seems like so little to undo so much.

4. This is the worst list of all time. And now this music coming out of the internet radio is jabbing at me, and it isn't fair. I'm too crumbly today. This is what happens when you cover your windows in huge sheets of white tissue, when you live in Queens and all of the people you want most are in Brooklyn or farther, when you've unpacked and arranged everything you own, knowing all the while that in less than a year it will all have to be packed up again and taken who knows where.

5. I don't remember now, because it's been so long. "If anyone ever smiles at me again I'm going to freak out." It might be. I'm going to spend the next less than a year not talking to anyone and selling everything I own. Then I'm going to run away and live by the water, and then everything will be fine.