A message on a small square of white paper was waiting for me, my name in another's hand: Helen, I just stopped by…

Do I have time to sit here with the door closed for a few moments and sink away into this chair? This day I'm low, the kind where appetite disappears but the hunger is overwhelming.

I hate the loneliness and the sense of urgent need that seems to accompany it: the phone call that can't happen, the compulsion to write and write more. But even more than that, the ache to receive.

Now it is clear that the boundless energy of a few days past was the Descent. Careening downhill is always exhilarating isn't it? I hate this inconsistency in my mood; I hate for you to witness it. I'd rather keep it to myself and present on the outside a leveled pleasantness. But it's the anxiety coursing through me, making that impossible. Until now I've managed to expertly keep it at bay by shrugging it off and pushing forward through daily tasks and daily dreams.

I move again tomorrow. This time will be the last, I hope. Something about this move is disturbing, even though I'm moving back to that beautiful little house. It's the change in location and all the other things in my life affected by it: where I eat, which friends now live near and the ones far. I will have a longer drive to work and to the gym. Also, I have stayed at this place longer than any other since mid-June. Despite not particularly liking it here, I have settled some and I'm reluctant to abandon that small comfort.

The Millennium Falcon will also be confiscated, after all this time. A large bounty on my head? Encase me in a prison that is like a chocolate bar; I would be content to rest there for a little while. Sunday I will take the ferry one more time to Bremerton where I will once again drive off in my G-ma's car, this time keeping it.

Sitting here in a box of yellow flickering incandescence, looking at a window that becomes more and more a reflection of myself as the houses behind it fade into darkness. How long have I been here like this? Almost catatonic, I have left myself it seems and now returned. The light hurts my eyes. I'm waiting for an interview to finish so I can go home. To eat. Meet with friends (who never showed). Sleep. Can't leave the chair. Suddenly I am too heavy.

Helen, I just stopped by…

I can't bring myself to throw it away because today it means too much.