The headache brought company. I awoke some time in the wee hours of the morning, around 4 or 5, to find a horrible nausea gnawing at my tummy. Initially I thought this to be a result of my immense stress. I was mistaken. I rose to use the bathroom, hoping my bowels were the warp and woof of the issue, but alas, the pain persisted. As I opened the door I remember the bar lock thing was in a state of activation, so the metal on metal clang resounded through the room. [Alley] was not roused. A short time later my tummy got worse and I felt the onset of vomit, which moved from my guts to my throat as I opened the door, once again forgetting to disengage the lock.
I rused down the hall and to the restroom, desperate to make it to a toilet. I did not make it. The contents of my stomach erupted into the recycling bin, which stood a few feet closer to me than the trash. It was only acid, no solids, so I guess I should be thankful for that at least a little. The bathroom provided some water for me to wash my face and mouth. For a moment I layed on the couch of the darkened lounch instead of retyrning immediately to my bed. I felt the sweat all over me, the thin oily film I havent felt since I layed on my bathroom floor after that second night with {Laurelie}. The penultimate meeting before the kiss, if I remember correctly.
Anyway, I was defeated on that old red leather couch imagining the disgust the janitor might feel upon taking the recycling. There was a chance they wouldn’t notice, a chance only the smell would remain or something. I was carefully ashamed. What an omen this was! My first morning at my new home, spent embarresed and pained. I was able to fall back asleeep, in my bed luckily. I awoke once more with a less-intense miasma, but bad enough that I didn’t in a million years wish to rouse myself for any reason but to get in my car and go home.
Of course I eventually had to rise, awaiting until [Alley] did since we had breakfast plans. A promise I broke. I took my first shower, a blundering affair. For the life of me I could not decipher the controlls of the thing or how too make the water come from the shower head instead of bath-faucet. Upon my return, I awkwardly got dressed in my cramped closet, fearing I would make [Alley] uncomfortable. I wore my cut-up Ardette shirt and some short shorts, the cute black ones. I had hoped to feel well enough to go to breakfast, but my stomach wouldn’t have it, so I sent poor [Alley] away on her lonesome.
When the clock struck I made myself go to the NSO meeting thing, but I didn’t last long. The nausea returned as [Anderson] spoke, and during a break I asked to be excused. This ended up being a good call since it got progressively worse until I could no longer find the werewithal to walk. I collapsed on the grass and pulled the air into my mouth, that toxic, pollinated air. This was not the air of my home. I leaned over to throw up again into the grass. It was to my relief a much lesser quantity than before, but embarresment still resounded through my lungs. Some emo bitch layed down, yakked, then just got up and kept walking. The air was no longer poison. I took a nap after this, in my bra btw since I hadn’t the will to remove it.
Upon waking I felt the deepest dread, parallelled only by my time on the Santa Cruz boardwalk. I was completely sure that my going to [Dansen] was the worst mistake I could possibly have made. I thought of going to [Blumble] and living in an apartment with {Laurelie} somewhere near [Watson]. How cruel! I cursed [Yaldabaoth]. I had, just for a moment, experienced happiness with {Laurelei}. Been with someone who didn’t expect anything of me, who saw me wholly as a woman and loved the woman they saw. I’d been too afraid to eat anything. I’d run out of water last night and had only La Croix and a bottle of Gatorade.
I, due in large part to my parent’s encouragement, resolved to attend [Norma’s] social. It was a good thing I did, because it made me feel a lot better thinking of the great potential for fun to be had here. There was also fruit, which no doubt made me feel physically better. Most of the conversation was gibberish to me, talk of Kanye and Doechii, but I was happy to be there. There was some fun talk of mormons, too. I was of course thinking of the author [Brandon], but held my tongue. One of my fellow transfer students, an offputting and unkempt man, was aparently 10 minutes away from Charlie Kirk when he bit the bullet, so that’s pretty cool.
Most of them went to a screening of End of Oak Street afterward, but I abstained due to a lack of interest in dinosoars. I walked back to south campus with [Norma,] which was nice if only a little awkward. We spoke of birds after I remarked on the vultures soaring above, which sounds a lot more foreboding than it felt in the moment. I saw their home, a large white tree in the middle of campus. They perched amongst its branches, conspiring.
After this I decided to take a little drive, going to Walmart to find a more reliable source of water and maybe some sunscreen for my arms seeing as I would be outside tomorrow. I bumbled around the store, a queer little liberal amongst the rural Kansasers. I could not find bottled water, much to my embarrased chagrin. Instead I purchased a lovely Britta filter. Oh joy! I exclaimed to myself. This shall be much more efficient. On my way back I stopped by Mcdonalds seeing as I’m too scared to go to the dining hall on my lonesome. I ate it in my car parked mere feet from my dorm. The nuggets were delightful.
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