I feel spidery, and the scaffolders have been watching me sleep.

There are directions I wish I could keep from looking in, because I don't like the feeling. I used to hate the sound of CBS news on the radio, because I would hear it in the morning coming from my parents' bathroom while my father took a shower. I would hear it in the morning when I felt sick from not sleeping enough and anxious about going to school, because in a strange way it felt like being abandoned. Every morning, being thrown to wolves, wolves who were nice to me, wolves who were my friends, wolves who said, "Very good," when I answered questions correctly. I still felt abandoned. I'd say I was seven then, because everything that happened when I was a kid happened when I was seven, except for the couple of things that happened when I was eight. It rained last night and I went for a walk in it and then came home, and it's a good thing, because if I'd said yes to the other place it would have been too much. This CBS news feeling in my stomach and in my eyes is already too much.

The Captain is up to something, and she's sweet, but I wish she'd stop. I know because she asked me if I was busy first, and then she sent an email to everyone. Everyone everyone. She's trying to make it sound casual, but I see the names on that list, I know a list that's designed for me. It's going to be a terrible, terrible, big giant deal, but she's sweet and I can't mind very much, I just don't have it in me. When someone tries to do something nice for me I should just shut up and like it, but I never seem to feel the right way. Then there's Falton, who I've been suspecting is gone, gone gone, and it turns out she's thinking of me and has a present for us to share in a month, and there is no deciding, just a yes for me to give her. How do I feel about that? Good, I think, and probably better the nearer it gets.

I just miss having someone like Ian around, everyone is so tough now. Ian used to look at me in a way that made me feel that he knew exactly how I felt, and he wouldn't say anything about it, he'd just hug me. He had a tight grip, and I never had to decide whether I ought to let go of him, because he always made it clear that he planned to keep holding on. At seven in the morning for two days in a row they're drilling into the brick between my windows, and it is the loudest grinding screech I've ever woken up to, and still I stay up all night, and it's just making me wobbly. That's all it is, that's all it is. I'm not scared of being forgotten, I'm not scared of being remembered, I'm only a little bit tired, a little bit sick from not sleeping enough.

I get jealous in too many ways, and I shouldn't. I wish I wouldn't.