Cracking, breaking, & losing myself.

A fine sliver of a crack is tracing my psychological contours. I'm being constricted. I'm overburdened with the pressure. So forgive me if I throw myself at a wall so that the itching crack splinters and falls away. Forgive me if I slip into a hapless heap while my numb fingers push the fractured pieces around at my useless feet. I won't be able to put them back into place until my sanity returns. If you can't be patient with me I understand. If you can't hang onto our drifting friendship don't feel obligated to. I know you're under pressure just as much as I am. But somehow I'm weakened by it now when I wasn't before. I'm on the verge. I feel it more everyday. It hurts to wake up. It hurts to move around. It hurts to do what I must. I will crack, I will break and I will never be the same again.

I had several consecutive dreams about Sheridan last night. Everyone I knew received letters of acceptance. I was always empty-handed. Nothing. Letters, letters for everyone: choking the mailboxes, waving in the enthusiastic hands of the applicants, plastered everywhere... everywhere except my hollow heart.