Am in depths of depression and have sickening nausea in the bowels of my gut.
Have got into a bit of trouble regarding visa and work etc etc I say a bit and it really is only a bit, but my paranoia knows no bounds.
K. who seems to have endless supply of lawyer friends put me in touch with one who told me to stop worrying unnecessarily this isn’t a KGB run country.
I spoke to him for 20 minutes late last night while he was still at the office. He has a very mellow, calm and slow south Indian accent and it allayed the feeling of panic in my stomach but tonight it returned unprompted.
My palms were itching to call him again. I begin to understand why people pay lawyers such vast sums of money. They seem to have all this power and knowledge, and what higher power can there be than of circumventing and bending the written law to your will? It makes calling them very….relaxing, like…. Valium.
So I called him again like a poor drug deprived junkie. I knew he would really say the same thing again, attempt to placate me very gently but for that exact reason I called. I needed my fix for the evening.
The temptation to keep him on the phone until I fall into a deep slumber is intense. I had this feeling when I was younger and had intense passionate and always unreciprocated crushes. The emotion was disturbing then and even more disturbing now.
Had a small tantrum on the phone with the ex while telling my tale of woe. Worked myself up into a fevered pitch of anxiety until I was in tears in a fit of complete panic and paranoia after meeting the student adviser yesterday evening.
Completely melodramatic of course, but had to be gotten out of the system.
Worst the ex is off with folks and it feels like forever since we met. While enjoying in part the time this gives me, the need to do nothing, no cooking, no bathing, no primping and tidying and no need to hide the rotten granny underwear…I am missing the cosy bed.
Met O. for a drink the eve before as she departed for the homeland of Red Thai curry. Was surprisingly sedate event perhaps because J was there and O. a bad case of a Columbian cold. She had amassed a mound of tissues and was snerking and snorting the entire time, and still I might add, looking stunning [god I hate her sometimes].
I struggled initially to make conversation with J everytime she left the table. He’s very quiet, at least at first. It was a strange night and it still seems to be. Hot, rainy and humid and sweaty. Rolling thunderstorms intermittently, reminding me of a Bombay Monsoon. I wash my hair everyday but its limp and greasy by nightfall. I feel like I just want to rip it right out of my head I can’t stand it anymore.
Worst of all I’ve completely run out of fagsQQQQ.
