Monday, June 24, 2013
Esak is getting stronger and stronger. He’s already asking when he can get up out of his bed, making enough of a pest out of himself that we’re threatening to put him in a stasis field. Nobeks don’t stay still very well, even when they’ve nearly had their heads blown off their shoulders. At least with operations suspended Dusa and Weln can stick close to him and make him behave.
I’m still doing my back-and-forth between rooms. It’s giving me plenty of exercise since Esak and Mom are at opposite ends of the building. Dr. Dad says he’s going to get me some Kalquorian-grade running slippers since I’ll soon be wearing out my sneakers.
I should be grateful that things are improving for those I care about. I’m trying to be happy about that, I really am. Yet I mostly feel sick inside. I don’t show it to anyone, but I am in a serious funk. I am constantly sad. I don’t know if it’s because of Mom getting sick recently and then Esak’s close call. Maybe it’s the continued threat of attack. Or perhaps it’s the realization that I will soon be leaving Earth for good, that my planet is truly dead and I’ll never see it again, and maybe I’ll never see my favorite Kalquorians either. It’s probably a little of everything.
I try to camp out overnight in Mom’s room when Dad isn’t looking because I can’t stand to sleep in my dorm room all by myself. When I try to sleep in my quarters, I end up crying myself to sleep. It’s getting harder and harder to get out of bed in the morning. I never knew how much effort simply putting on clothes and brushing my hair could be until recently. Sometimes during the day I have to go into the bathroom where no one can see me and cry. Every little thing is overwhelming me right now. Even Mom and Esak’s improvements, as wonderful as they are, can’t seem to snap me out of this.
I don’t want Earth to die. I don’t want to leave Dusa, Esak, and Weln behind. Sometimes I think I want to find a way for them to clan me so I’ll have at least that tiny bit of stability. I wish I had more time with them, enough so I could decide if I could spend the rest of my life with them. But to chain myself to these three, no matter how wonderful they are, just because I feel alone and scared? That’s stupid, and I know it. On the other hand, I also know that once I leave Earth, it will be a long time if ever before I’ll see them again.
Great, I’m going to cry some more. It’s just that nothing is certain. Nothing. I don’t think I can take this not knowing what to expect. If I don’t find something I can depend on, something solid and real, some kind of light at the end of the tunnel, I might go insane. I really think I could.