I swear I’m not drowning in anxiety right now. So keep that in mind while you read the next few paragraphs. Yes, I’m mildly stressed about moving, but I know that there is an end in sight. Work is work; all of the worries that come with that are pretty manageable. All of the personal emotional concerns like boys and friends and superfluous drama…these are nothing new and I’ve become quite skilled at keeping them in check.

I have had a bad migraine for three days. This happens periodically, and it is usually triggered by illness, excessive drinking, or lack of sleep. This particular attack was definitely brought on by my fucked up sleep schedule. There is too much to do! And I’ve been running a serious sleep deficit since I left for LA.

So this morning, when I crawled out of bed at my mom’s house, I thought I would feel better. As soon as I walked into the sunlight-filled living room, I realized I was wrong. The stabbing pain in the right side of my head (the usual spot) made my eyes water. So I went back to bed, for three more hours.

I dreamed that I was living in Mexico City. I had essentially the same job I have now. One day I came home from work in the middle of the afternoon, only to discover that I was living with my ex-boyfriend again. He was sitting on the couch playing video games. He was surrounded by beer bottles and pizza crusts.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” I asked. “I don’t even LIKE you.”

He looked puzzled and said something like, “I’m really getting my life together now. Look…I’m wearing looser pants.” He gestured to his sweatpants.

I stomped out. I had dinner with a friend and then spent the night at a hotel, drinking mint juleps (eww) in my room.

The next day, I climbed in the bathroom window in my apartment. My ex-boyfriend was lying on my bed smoking a cigarette. Sitting next to the bed, on the floor, was a weird-looking Japanese girl (somehow I specifically knew she was speaking Japanese).

He was staring at the ceiling, talking in one endless paragraph. “The thing about Amanda, is she will never ask me to leave, because she never wants to talk about her feelings. And really, I can get away with anything. All I have to do is tell her she is trying to control me. So don’t feel bad about being here.”

I grabbed Moe from the kitchen, and I tiptoed out the front door, closing the door with the utmost care.

I sat on the stoop, petting Moe. I knew that I would never trust my ex-boyfriend. And I really could not remember inviting him to live with me in Mexico City. Most likely, he was hoping to confuse me into letting him stay. I really could see no escape from the situation.

I walked to a home improvement store. I bought a huge wheelbarrow full of rocks. I walked to a small bridge over an irrigation canal.

I carried one rock at a time under the bridge. This took hours. The sun was setting when I finished.

I laid down. One at a time, I stacked the rocks on my chest. I could feel my breaths diminishing in size. I hoped that someone would remember to feed Moe.

When I woke up, I was gasping for breath!


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