15,098 Days Alive
44 Pages of Every Heart a Doorway Read This Evening
7 Finished Jars of Apple Pie Filling
4 Weeks Or So Until AO3 Is Back Up
1 Bottle of Deep Auburn Hair Dye
Seanan McGuire is one of my favorite authors. I just started reading Every Heart a Doorway and it is delightfully strange with plenty of queer characters.
The main character, Nancy, reminds me of someone. Not quite myself, no. But the story so far brings about a fierce feeling of… for lack of an English word: hiraeth. It is a Welsh word for the longing for a place that never existed. Hiraeth is a feeling I know we’ll. When the brain gremlins get loud, when sunlight is too bright and my skin doesn’t fit right, I feel it.
It’s a good night for a book like that. My brain is loud and I feel untethered in my body. Yay for disassociating? I mean, not really. Only half serious about it, but I feel like my voice is far away and so is everything else. I am not suicidal. I’m just… borderline numb. So I am reading and crocheting and trying to write and forcing myself to eat and hydrate… not just bed rot and cry. I asked Owl to squish me back into my body yesterday. It helped for a bit. Might ask her again tomorrow if I wake still feeling so untethered still.
Untethered. Like one Mister Oscar Diggs, the Omaha man who flew away in a hot air balloon in L. Frank Baum’s story. Ah, to Oz I would never want to go. Take me to Wonderland, through the looking glass. I would fare much better amongst the nonsense and tea.
I am making less sense than usual. I am going to bed in self defense.
Oh, and I painted the roses red. Er, colored my hair red. “Deep auburn”, but it’s red.
Take your meds, folks.
