Writing the book

So much to say, so much not to say. It's everything, and it's nothing.

I sat the dreaded test last month; I'm numb on how I did. Took a rather large gamble and wrote a short story for Censorship and bathered about CBT/DBT and looking back to know how to move on and create self-esteem. I don't know. I want to know and the two and a half weeks still to go seem to stretch untenably too far away; I don't want to know, knowing the results is too concrete, I can't stare into the mirror of my failure again.

Dating tried, failed and put on hold until after the results. Descriptions of myself as the ice queen oddly pleasing but still, deep down, I feel like I ought to scream out how not sure of myself I am, how I want someone to break through, I just want someone to want me and for me to want him back.

Work is boring hell and yet (good) things keep happening - got highly competitive funding, have papers being written. It's still not enough for me. I want more, something else. Anything else. I did turn down a (possibly) more interesting role because they only offered $50k. Moves must be up, not parallel or down. Good friend "Toe" is away for two weeks, and I honestly don't know how I'm going to cope - I have so little contact with others now that I'm alone in my office. I was supposed to work in the dungeon today, I rocked up at 10:30 and was gone by 3. How much longer can I cope with this lack of direction and desire?

Curious that I seem to be teetering on the edge of something, reading that back. I don't know? Maybe? Trauma seems to be following me but I've moved on from mine. I need to get this work study out of the way and maybe it will go away?

I want to make promises to post regularly, but I don't know how often I can lay out that I did nothing all day. If you promise yourself to post semi-regularly, is that worthy? Maybe I'll just try to ease myself into it, and celebrate success. It might be nice to blog about my anxiety rather than garble it to my friends and family?