15 july

Is it weird how the joyful things evaporate into meaninglessness when your advocates desert you? Yesterday I got my AP english exam score in the mail, that college course I challenged back in February, and I got a 5 (that's a perfect score! what the heck!); I did an ecstatic dance around the garage and called everyone I knew and.... my father was happy! I made him happy because I saved him the money of three to six semesters of college English. And he loved me! He loved me until I forgot to turn off the fax machine and then my AP scores went up in smoke. I tipped the balance of Justification a little off the floor for a few hours, but then it came crashing back down on the side of my injustifiability. Why does it matter to me so much? Why do I care?

Because he's my father. And even though I will never be able to please him for more than a few hours, every single bloody bit of my body wants to please him because he is my father, and he is supposed to be my advocate. But he will never be my advocate. He will always be the one destroying me. I cannot forever self-advocate. What will I do? Everyone wants to be the hero, to be the advocate for the fatherless. But who would care to be my advocate?

I'm tired of re-educating myself. I feel like communist Russia. But what is the other option-- dismantle myself and give in to a constant bitter hatred toward the world? What use is that to anyone? And even if I'm continuing on my re-education mantra of "love over usefulness", what good does that do anyone? I love the world; I love everything in it and the constant irascible joy of uncovering bits of it. I'm naturally bubbling over with joy-- ergo, when I feel like a ragged empty metal can, like a rotting felled tree, some Great Depleting Force is at fault. I need to seperate myself from this man. That is the only way I can ever recompose myself, not constantly fighting and fighting and always losing ground. Two weeks in Europe with buoyant teenagers did the trick, I ran at, what, 70% joy rather than 30%? What will a lifetime away from my joy-leech do? But I'm tired of looking forward to that. If one is constantly looking forward the present disappears into a blur, and isn't life made up of constant single Presents?

Here it is, and this is all there is: I'm tired. I need an advocate. I'm running out of buoyancy.