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2002-01-02 - 2:23 p.m.
Last night I went to bed dripping with exhaustion. After piling eleventeen blankets onto my body and obsessively re-adjusting the sheets, I lay there twitching and waiting for sleep. Of course the anxiety of having to wake up at 430 for work only escalated the pressure to go to sleep and i managed to work up a marvelous sweat. This is when i started to cry. The weight of a thousand blankets and a thousand worries descended upon me as I lay gasping for air like a bloated, rubbery little fish. My dad heard me snorty-snorting snot bubbles and promptly knocked on my door, attempting to aide me in my distress. I told him i was worried about my life and he told me not to give up hope. His discomfort was tangible but he tried his best to give heroic paternal advice. I think it's hard for Dads when there are no more answers. I don't know if i felt better, but i did go to sleep. More than his words I appreciated his desire to help.