23
 alita. 

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thursday; november twenty-sixth, two thousand nine.

it's thanksgiving, and i am thankful for a day off, a cute apartment i'm staying in for the weekend, the cat in my lap, house reruns, and bringing back you - dear penmanship.

lessons learned from a very hard month:

while my right brain says:

(paper diary, 11/13)

Thoughts from a mind and body, underfed, overstuffed,
unable to circle reduced to shudder and forget,
with that weight I attributed to being older than
my years ten years ago so maybe I'm catching up,
I've picked up enough stones, been given and kept,
to make a lot of weight.  But if anything,
my opinions thoughts fears loves are weightless,
mean little.  Have I learned to listen? to Speak?
And what happened to my ability to think?
Did I really reduce thinking to pining and then
got rid of that too?  And what of the stones?
This will not do.  Eight days to straighten out.
A week, really.  And then comes the next chapter.
Up to 28, I'm allowed to be self-destructive.
Now, no more burning.  Only giving away.
No more asking for help from those who can't provide it.