i've just finished crying like my heart was breaking. but it wasn't. C.S. Lewis' was and Douglas' was, and yet i bawled too and felt overcome with thier grief in that moment. it's funny how that can happen. i wonder at the mechanisms of that. vicarious feelilng, that is. is it that i already have my own grief burried inside and the more true the emotions on screen are to me, the more i feel it? uhhh, i don't know. it sounds dumb when i try to put it into words.

i feel sickness creeping up on me. worsening soreness of the pharynx and general body weariness to be exact. rest. that sounds good to me.

mom gave me grey socks with hearts on them for valentine's day. i gave gramma and mom each a fudge heart. it's been very difficult not eating sugar. just goes to show i was having too much. mom made lamb chops which were very tasty and made me feel very ill.

it's hard trying to live a new life. your old life hangs onto you so.

this morning i took my car into a dealership just down the road from work. i got a courtesy car and foolishly looked at the empty key holder they gave me, when i in fact knew that it was warming up where it was parked. most people warm up a car by turning it on, which requires a key. i realized this and smiled appologetically at the people behind the counter, laughed a little nervous laugh and turned tail and ran.