After we were done, I went to the bathroom and tried to vomit. It didn't work, unfortunately.
I was flipping through Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close today, reading over my highlighted sections, the little phrases I've marked, and I noticed this one:
Being with him made my brain quiet. I didn't have to invent a thing.
I immediately thought of C. I called him today, but he seemed so tired that I just told him we could talk later. The other night, I found an old picture of him in my room, from when he was in eighth grade and I was in sixth. We had gone to New York, and we were sitting in Hard Rock Cafe. He looks so different, so young. I remember he said that I was such a tease on that trip...
Dear Neil,
I've reached a definite standstill. The only directions that are open to me are the ones I'm sick and tired of. The only way I want to go is still closed to me, as of yet.
And what can I do? Stand still? Turn in circles? The pause of time, its laziness and intolerable quiet, ebbs at the edge of my bones... It's tiring in the worst way possible: I'm drenched in an exhaustion that results from doing noting. Doing nothing and waiting.
There's no cure for this.