My Secrets Desperately Want Told

I'm stuck at home this Spring Break, and while I'm blessed with the week-long absence of my father, I'm feeling stir-crazy already. It doesn't help in the slightest that my bladder awoke me at five o' clock this morning from a three-hour sleep, then my brain decided it was going to switch into hyperdrive and keep me up no matter what. There was ticking everywhere. There were one million cars on our tiny suburban street. Every noise that my mom made was amplified in full. My stomach had been turning like a wrench. At first, I figured it to be hunger, the kind where you almost feel nauseous, it's that bad. But the feeling disappeared after I got a nib of sleep somehow. I even ate when I finally decided I wasn't going anywhere, and the hunger didn't demand any more.

It was five-forty-five when I got up from my bed and went to lie in my mother's, because she'd already gone to work. Perhaps ten minutes passed before Gatsby started BARKBARKBARKing and AWUUUUHHHHHing. It was my responsibility to let him inside.

There I was, standing barefoot in the garage doorway, blind without my contacts, calling out to the dog who was nowhere to be seen. It seemed like a Book of Genesis before he finally dashed past my feet, and I could slam the door before he just ran back out. I then had to lure him back into his kennel and instruct him to go back to sleep. The morning had started out stressful.

My mind was going crazy because I needed money to purchase a pharmaceutical, I had no money, and my mom had told me just to call her when she was at work, and we could figure something out then. But that simply would not do. This pharmaceutical required utmost secrecy. No, it wasn't a box of condoms. Good guess. It was something that would cost at least eleven dollars, which left me bargaining with God to let me find a ten dollar bill or a twenty dollar bill, anything to provide me with funds. I got up to look for these bills I'd requested and sure enough, I did find a twenty dollar bill. It was chilling with two fifties and another twenty. I was reluctant to take it. This was important, though. Either I borrow the bill and get the pharmaceutical, or I wait until my brain has thoroughly backed in upon itself with the paranoia of it all.

Suffice to say, I managed to secure the pharmaceutical after an ill-planned trip. I felt a lot like Juno MacGuff, walking down the street in my twill coat, holding a bottle of Diet Coke in one hand and my wadded purse in the other. [If that little reference didn't betray the pharmaceutical's purpose, I don't know what will.] Swigging down the Diet Coke with a sort of determination that left me foamy at the mouth.

And now, I just really want to talk to someone. I feel very isolated. The Boyfriend has a funny habit of saying he's there for me, but I can't call him just any time, because he doesn't have voicemail. It's frustrating. I feel so strange right now as it is. I am relieved, but depressed, and I am confused. I have too many secrets. And they all want told, so they can get out of my head and I can stop worrying.

I got the pharmaceutical so the worrying would stop. But all it's done is instilled a feeling of uneasiness. I don't want to take its word, though I double-checked. I'm at a moral crossroads where I have to decide, for the time being, do I want to trust how I feel, or how something else interpreted the result?