argyle_princess: (asleep)
Hannah thinks that Brennan is right about most things, and Hannah knows she's right about needing to eat and sleep and so on.

So Hannah eats. All right, Hannah mostly pushes soup around the bowl with her spoon, but she eats at least a third of it, and in her defense, it is a very large bowl.

She drinks all the juice.

She brushes her teeth, showers, works the tangles out of her hair, puts on mint green flannel pajamas provided by Bar, hangs her clothes in the bathroom so the wrinkles would fall out.

Small things that add up to living, right?

It would be nice to sleep, because sleeping is one way to stop thinking, and one that doesn't later involve having to join a twelve step program. Hannah is just not especially optimistic about it happening any time soon.

But she curls up on her side, arms and legs drawn in tight, blanket pulled up to nose, facing the chair Brennan is sitting in. There's some conversation about nothing in particular, but Hannah's replies get slower and shorter and less distinct, and (if she were awake to notice) she'd be surprised how quickly she falls asleep.

She stays very still for a long time, but eventually, (and gradually) she relaxes, uncurls.

She might be dreaming.

She also might now be drifting in that place between sleeping and waking, not quite dreaming but also not quite picking her thoughts.

Whatever it is, those thoughts are tumbled and jumbled and they don't quite fit together, like pieces of different puzzles dumped out onto the floor.

And then she sits bolt upright, gasping.

Whatever she was before, she's awake now.
argyle_princess: (bothered and bewildered)
She didn't really eat breakfast. She knows she should, and she needs to, and all, she just isn't hungry.

She is, however, tired. Very, very tired.

Which is why after not eating breakfast, Hannah went back to her room (that isn't really hers any more than the clothes in the closet or the toothbrush in the bathroom or the running shoes by the door are really hers) to take a nap.

At least in theory. Because what she has actually done for the last two hours is stare at things -- the wall, the ceiling, the other wall, the door, the ceiling again, yet another wall.

Finally she gives up, wraps her arms around her pillow (which isn't really hers, either), and cries.

She's not really sobbing, or even weeping -- those require more energy than she's got right now. She's just crying -- because she's tired, and frustrated, and frightened and worried and she doesn't really know what else to do, any more.
argyle_princess: (running)
She's not dressed for it, and it's cold, and she ought to go back to history class, but some days, after some conversations, a girl just has to run. This is one of those days, and that was one of those conversations.

And so Hannah is running. She's running and she's not thinking about anything but running and that suits her just fine.

And if her eyes are watering, it's just from the cold air out around the lake.
argyle_princess: (looking over shoulder)
Sometimes, storming off in a huff isn’t such a bad thing. It depends on where you go, and how long you stay, and how you channel your huff-generated energy.

Looking at things objectively is rarely fun. It means you have to let go of your delusions that things are all right, that all your choices have been good (or even that they’ve been the best you could have made, even though they were bad), or that everything is fine, just fine, really it’s fine.

Looking at things objectively is, however, not a bad way to use huff-generated energy. Especially at the end of the universe. Because looking at things objectively can require time and distance from the things in question, and time and distance are sort of in infinite supply here.

And looking at things objectively, there’s no getting around it. She’s been putting it off, and she’s pretty sure she could go on putting it off. But she’s also pretty sure that she shouldn’t go on putting it off.

It’s time to go home.

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Hannah Griffith

June 2009

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