unfinished.

i get through the impossible box, the clinging plastic ring thing, and then one of those terrible foil safety seals stares me in the face. i'm trying to peel it with what's been left of my nails and the tips of my teeth. i just want my fucking tylenol pm so that i can sleep without voices. and finally, stupidly, my finger slips and pops very simply through the foil ... hmmm ... not requiring any peeling back motion. red-faced and standing in the middle of my room, i'm very close to screaming at a little plastic bottle filled with answers.

i may just need a little sleep.

last night ... um ... i barely remember but rockstar called after the tylenol had kicked in ... there was a car accident. i had to pick him up. i barely. he's fine. he's fine. but driving a car was very difficult for me last night, well ... not the driving so much as the operating the radio.

man, there are connections in my head that have certainly loosened over the years and ones that were never there in the first place.

whenever i used to discover these little connections that my psyche lacked, like getting the days of the week confused or not being able to remember a conversation unless it happened over six months ago, i would get very frustrated and ball my hands into fists and shake them very quickly to exhaust my frustration with my brain for not working properly. boy loved these moments.

when he would see that look in my eyes and my fists coming to, he would smile grandly and shake his own fists in delightful mockery of my frustration with myself.

sometimes, he would ask me about something that we had talked about the previous week, a film or a friend. i would look at him blankly and blink. "nevermind, bean, i'll ask you in six months." he was the one that came up with the six month delay rule on all lindsay girl's memories. he told me that it made perfect sense because i'm a very delicately wired girl and all the information has to go through a six month process to get to memory. i have no reason not to believe this, and it kept me from getting fist-shaking frustrated.

it's just sad sometimes that i can't remember what our last conversation on that sunday night was about ... but i'm sure it will come to me, traffic's a bit backed up in there.

my simple tasks are taking twice as long to process, and remembering the easy things which are usually left to habit are just being left. i forget when i promise to cook dinner. i nearly left the other morning without getting dressed, opened the door in my pjs and realized i was missing a step. i forget where i put things when i put them in places to remember them.

my mind is fogging up, and i can't remember when daily dailies were simple.