APRIL 10, 1996.

Depression sets in, deeper and deeper. Thoughts of suicide, of
taking loved one along with you as you wonder if it isn't time to
end the cycle once and for all. I wouldn't do it of course but I
am so exhausted with life; I just don't know where it's taking me
nor why. I'm like some crazy weather vane, blowing in every
direction. I don't dare talk of these thoughts I have to the
people I know because it scares them and they always try to
reason with me when I am at the end of my rope, when I have
exhausted all reason there is in me. I am nearly ready to leave
everything behind and disappear one morning, leave far away with
nothing else but the clothes on my back, a small bag with my
toothbrush and a few essentials and do like the warriors of old.
Cross the ocean, the river, lake or whatever and make it with
whatever resources I can muster. Do or die, sink or swim.
Sometimes, I think I couldn't possibly make it. I can be so
introverted. Other times, I tell myself it would be the
opportunity of my life. September, October, I'll take off for
the winter and the road will take wherever it takes me. I'm long
due. I'm still in that mode of counting on people, waiting for
them to work with me, call me, fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. Take
for example what I'm writing. I don't know why I bother because
it's as good a lost forever as Gilles has taken the printer back
and I can't even print what I write. Do I care? Some days I
feel like destroying every journal I own, partly to start anew,
partly some days out of spite, but when I reread bits and pieces
I occasionally come upon gems, not so much as the writing style
is concerned but the content represents a good many people, what
I believe a lot of people think, thought along the way but don;t
dare express. I'm surprised by my honesty sometimes. There is a
lot of censure but once in a while, I am angry enough that I
break through the silence and say exactly what I think. It's not
always easy to swallow but it's the best of life I think. My
life for the moment is stagnating. I am in limbo, perhaps just
as much as when I was married. I don't want to settle down,
don't feel I'm in the right place to settle down so it makes for
an artificial situation. Everything is temporary. My work, my
place, my car, I don't want to start any projects, buy anything,
decorate my apartment, invest in the house. I'm living for the
day I leave. Actually recently, I've even started thinking about
packing some of my things, collecting boxes. I've taken out my
resume, gotten a couple of addresses for overseas assignments.
It scares me. I sometimes see myself a lonely old lady still
looking for what will make me happy in life and never able to be
grounded to the point of settling down. That or I settle down
and the person I love can't stay with me because we don't share
the same liking for the place where I want to stay. I'm tired,
really tired. I don't know if I can take any more losses or
disappointments in my life, knowing full well it's not over. I
don't want anything excessive it seems. I want a man, let me
describe him, warm, affectionate, funny, a bit of a tease, happy,
demonstrative. Show me you love me, hold my hand in public, kiss
me on the cheek in public until I'm old and withered. Make me
laugh, tame me, bring out the best in me, the love, the
tenderness, the humour, the stamina, the intelligence, teach me
generosity by giving me what I never had, the affection, the
touch I so much needed, the words of comfort, of encouragement
even if I seem like I don't need them because my armour protects
me. Break through that armour, that tough skin and teach me to
surrender, that surrendering is not always harmful, that
sometimes it can be for the best. Where are you sweetheart? I
look forward to the day we shall meet, to the day we will be
together.
A.C.


This is the final entry in Agnes's life journal.


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