Friday, Oct. 10, 2003 | 10:31 AM

You know how it is when you�ve held back crying for so long and finally you just can�t anymore? This morning I woke up sobbing and I couldn�t stop. I cried all the way on the bus and I cried all the way into work and so hard that my whole body shook and I didn�t care. I know I looked like a total freak and still do with blood shot eyes and a red puffy face, lipstick smeared and hair notty and unbound. But I don�t give a shit. I haven�t cried in a long long time (well, except in the context of doing theatre and that doesn�t count.) Maybe I am making up for all those dry months.

Sometimes I am overcome by this terrible sadness and I realize it�s never going to get any better. Things have already gotten the better-est they can get in that regard. I am functional and responsible and I have fun and I am pursuing my dreams and I�ve grown by leaps and bounds yada yada yada. But certain things are never going to get any better than they are right now�maybe that�s the price you pay for being able to do what you�re meant to do�the price you pay for the wisdom you�ve gained that forces you to do what you�re meant to do. It�s healed as much as it�s going to heal and it will never ever get any more healed. Some people maybe get really really hurt and time, like a benevolent ocean erodes that hurt, smooths its fractured surface. I�m not one of those people. Certain things are never going to be OK�I mean, things are OK. In many ways they are great�I�m not complaining. I have a wonderful fucking life and I thank whatever benevolent forces in the universe have provided me such blessings on a daily basis. And also, there are things that have been broken irrevocably and aren�t ever going to get fixed. It�s just the way it is.

Sometimes I look around and I catch a glimpse of how isolated I am. I step outside myself in a social situation like last night�I�m hovering over the proceedings. I see myself nodding and smiling and asking the right questions and saying the right things, and I�m so fucking convincing. But I�m not there. I haven�t been there for a long while. I�m a fucking ghost haunting my own life. I think Aimee Mann described this particular sensation best:

You split like a cell.
And then cannot tell
the line from the parallel.
So baby beware.
I'm just pretending to care.
Like I'm not even there.
Gone but I don't know where

There was a time when I wasn�t like this. Ironically, right now is probably the most social I�ve ever been. As Angus said yesterday, Dammit, the phone is always for you.. At present I have attained a record number of friends and acquaintances. I am liked for reasons that mostly have very little to do with anything of real relevance�just look at my friendster testimonials. I am highly respected and well thought of. Occasionally, I am actually quite entertaining. But there is a veneer of cynicism, like a clear lacquer that coats my interpersonal connections. I don�t fucking trust anyone.

That�s not to say I don�t think the people I know and care for aren�t wonderful. I do. But I am waiting, always always waiting for the other shoe to drop. And I know for absolute certain that I will never ever EVER be able to love one person with all my heart the way I was once capable of. I think that�s why I dash all over the map romantically. I guess considering everything it�s a normal response. Yes, part of it is because after a lot of soul searching I honestly do think monogamy (and I apologize in advance for this) is basically pretty retarded as a social construct. But beyond that, something in me has gone horribly cold and fickle. Something in me has short-circuited. Some vital cable in my emotional wiring has been severed. And I know it�s not going to be fixed.

How do I know this? Well, because I dealt with it before. When my father died something similar happened to me. A year and a half or so after he passed I realized I was never going to be happy in quite the same way again. I didn�t realize this in some maudlin violins and soap opera slop way. It was a cold fact. I realized that I would never be unconsiously happy ever again�happy in that way that you�re so goddamned happy and you don�t even know it�you don�t think about it. I knew I would never spend another moment not second-guessing any happiness that came my way, or at the very best I sensed I would notice the happiness, that I would be analytically aware of it. I knew forever more I would stand outside of it and observe it and miss it in advance. I was right too.

And this is like a more specific adult version of that. What has happened to me isn�t particularly interesting or tragic and most people have a story like it dotting their history. I don�t know why everything affects me so much. Why nothing is casual. Why the pain I feel is so particular and acute. Why even though I have very much let things go the residual affect has been one of such total devastation.

One thing I miss desperately about living alone is being able to hole up by myself and not have to deal with anyone else in this state. I kind of miss the times when I could choose not to return Angus�s phone calls for a month. I feel so fucking overwhelmed right now. And it has nothing at all whatsoever to do with him, but I don�t want to see him or be around him. I don�t want to be around anyone whom I really love. I don�t want to talk to anyone about what�s bothering me. I don�t want to be vulnerable. I don�t want to explain why I�m sitting in my room for hours on end and listening to The Vaselines� Jesus Don�t Want Me For A Sunbeam on repeat. Displaying that sort of vulnerability has gotten me into terrible terrible trouble in the past and I don�t want it to happen again. I think I�m just going to pretend that he didn�t catch me sobbing this morning. There�s no reason to open that can of worms.