Stream-of-Metacognitive-Conscious. [Metaconscious?]

I can feel the march of time pull my feet in lockstep beat slowly down the path of madness. Or at least I could. I had a meltdown yesterday, and I feel so much better from that. Poor Meredith O. had to put up with me the day before that and the day of, and I do feel bad about that. Of course, we had the very predictable discussion about why I bottle-up and then explode repeatedly. Still-predictable-but-not-quite-so-much discussion also ensued, including what I’m afraid of, why I feel the way that I feel, and how to “deal” with it.

Stir Crazy Cabin Fever.

I had gotten excited about assuaging said condition[s] with a couple of dives, but Dad was feeling like crap today. I was also feeling a bit under the weather, otherwise I would’ve lobbied hard for Sister and I to go all by out lonesomes. Of course, he would have freaked out and panicked and forbade us from going alone. I totally understand that; this is one of the times where I can understand his paranoia and desire for control. Anyways, hopefully we’ll actually be going diving tomorrow. I am really hoping that this is not as bad as the last time we went on Memorial Weekend; our second dive, we got down to about twenty feet, realized that the one-and-a-half-foot visibility wasn’t going to improve, came up, and went home. Seriously, when we started our descent, we held onto each other, and even then, I could only see Dad’s hand and wrist, and Sister said she could only see my hand and wrist.