I've always wondered how you can feel so encapsulated in a huge city like Los Angeles, how this creeping claustrophobia can arise from living among so many anonymous faces, but at least I know where I got it from. Mother writes in her diary:
I constantly feel the need to get out of here, this town is like a prison and restlessness is my life sentence. I don't know if the cage is too small or my wings too wide, but I know I've never been more afraid of anything than to be trapped here forever. Maybe it's true what they say, that you can never run away from yourself, but I imagine I'm running from something else and that everything will be fine if I'm just free to go wherever I want.
T is asleep, we have to leave early in the morning but I'm still up. It's not that I'm having second thoughts about him, but I fear I will end up hurting him. I hope it's a risk he's willing to take.