draining's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- On \"The Handmaid's Tale\" by Margaret Atwood, part two, 2006 I feel like a handmaid. Yet, how can I? My hair is loose about my shoulders; I'm wearing a nightie that resembles a negligee; I'm wearing jewelry; I'm wearing hand lotion; I'm shaven; I'm writing, with a pen; I just read; I just smoked a cigarette; I just used a vibrator; I own stashes of make-up, my toenails are painted; two nights ago I laid in bed half naked with a man who isn't even my boyfriend. How can I feel like a handmaid? It's because I feel useless. It's these nights. These nights, filled with insomnia. With nowhere to go, except to the bathroom, where I force the piss out; if I'm lucky, the cat will be resting on the radiator there, I can pet him. Or I can blow my nose. Then there's cigarettes. And the internet. And books. No, I'm not a handmaid- I'm too lucky. But I don't feel lucky. I just feel dried up, like someone who can't sleep because they spent the whole previous day sleeping. My sleep cycle is reversed. I feel trapped in that. Whenever I feel trapped, I say I feel like a handmaid. 7:00 a.m. - 2006-03-06 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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