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2002-08-09 - 1:46 p.m.

The days are too long and the nights are too long and I don't quite know how to fill up the hours. By some supreme effort of will, I cleaned my room the other day. I don't like it when it's messy; the clutter makes my head feel all cluttered. But I couldn't seem to do anything about it. It's still cluttery now, but the clutter is stacked in piles, almost but not quite out of sight.

I'm reading more now. That's a good thing. And I'm watching less television, although I never watched much of it to begin with. I finally finished the book I was reading for book club (Swann's Way by Marcel Proust), and even though I liked it more than I ever thought I would, I was so elated to finish it that I ran off to the library the next day to check out fun books to read. And for two nights in a row, I neglected to turn on the computer to check my email.

On Sundays, I get the New York Times. I've always wanted to be the kind of person who subscribed to the New York Times. Instead, I got a subscription for Rob, for his birthday. When we broke up, I debated long and hard about what to do with that subscription. I had pictured long lazy Sunday mornings in bed, reading the New York Times and drinking coffee together. It was as much a gift to myself as it was a gift to him. I wasn't sure I wanted a monthly reminder on my credit card bill of our failed relationship. So I mentally calculated the amount of money he had spent on my birthday present, roughly equal to two months worth of the New York Times. After two months, I changed the subscription to my address. And for the next seven weeks, I neglected to get the New York Times. I called every week, and was reassured by the New York Times operator that she would speak to the local distributor. Still no paper. It was scant consolation that Rob wasn't getting it either. I finally started getting it two weeks ago; my seven weeks without it was penance, I like to think, for depriving Rob of his birthday present.

I can't tell if I'm thinking too hard or not thinking enough. Either way, I'm not coming to any conclusions, and just when I think I'm getting better...BAM! I'm flat on my back again. I don't know how people do this, over and over again. I don't know how I am supposed to get through this. I just want to go to sleep and wake up when it's all over.

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