So the rest of the day pretty much went to shit. Pretty much around 4:30 I just spiraled. Hard and fast. Combined with the heat I felt worse. Thoughts swirled around. Thoughts about never being independent. Thoughts about no change. The main things I think about. They fed my mood until I was exhausted and sad and fell really quiet. Direct answers were all Norm got. Fast-fading smiles. I always try not to give fully into my mood. But it's so fucking hard. It is. Depression makes you really exhausted. Especially when it's 90 degrees out.

All I kept thinking about is how trapped I feel. That I'll never have more freedom. And for what? For what? For a new iBook? I felt like standing in right there in Norm's office and softly say "I can't do this anymore." Just get up from the chair, say that and walk out. Walk to where? Who the fuck knows. The whole situation I'm in right now makes me physically ill. And I realized today, more than ever, that Norm would never understand. Neither will Eric. Never. They mean well but everything's making me sick. Everything and everyone right now.

When it was time for me to leave, Norm said she'd drive me to the train station. I told her I'd walk. The minute I said that, I felt this wave of more concentrated sadness wash over me. If I didn't shift my eyes fast enough, oxygen and gravity would've set in and my eyes would've watered for sure. She drove me to the station and gave me a final "Don't be late tomorrow"-kick as I got out of the car. I have to be in White Plains before 10am tomorrow.

I rushed into the station just in time to catch the train back to New York. It was an express train. Seats were few so I stood the whole way. Reading more of Becoming a Man. Nodding every now and then when I connected with something Paul Monnette wrote.

The train ride was a nice diversion actually. Back in the city, I rushed downtown to J&R to pick up a sleeve for my iBook. After shuffling around dazed, sweaty people on the sidewalk, I got to the computer section just to hear the guy at the door say "We're closed". It was just a little after seven. I wanted to scream. Maybe I should've. All that rushing for nothing just added to my frustration. I was invisible again. Invisible and falling further and further into a blah-ish mood.

I went up to Union Square. Circuit City had notebook sleeves. Not exactly the one I wanted but my iBook fits nicely in it and I'll be able to use my backpack tomorrow. Went over to Husani's for a little bit. Quick stop at Petco for litter and treats for Tera and Relm. Came home right after that. Almost the second I got in, I got to cleaning Tera and Relm's cage. Put them in the little kritter keeper thing and put it on my windowsill. Poured some juice, started cleaning the cage and then something happened. I must've been near the bottom of the spiral. Thoughts swirling around quickly. I couldn't deal. I couldn't ... deal. I whispered just that and before I know it, I was sitting at the kitchen table crying. Crying and still trying to be wary that Mark didn't walk into the apartment at that time. I couldn't really stop.

The phone made me. It rang and I pulled it together enough to answer. It was Jonathan. We talked while I cleaned the mouse cage. A needed distraction. Eyes still red and wet. I came back to my room after hanging up and saw Tera lying pretty still. I tapped on the hard plastic and she didn't move. She was just lying there... limp. And then everything came back. All the thoughts. All the feelings from before Jonathan's phone call. I started crying again. Harder this time. I took her out of the cage. Her eyes were still open. Was I really crying for my dead pet mouse? Somewhat, yes. But more so for what her death seemed to represent. The final kick in the stomach of a really shitty day. Bringing also incredible guilt. Feeling I should've done more when she was sick before. Feeling I was huge failure on top of everything else. I held her in my hands, sitting on my bedroom floor, crying for all the other times I probably should've cried today.