May 13, 2008--Hillary Last Night at 3:00 a.m.

Can’t sleep. Too many things on my mind. So much to think about. For one of the few times in my life, I’m confused.

Isn’t it ironic? I just noticed that it’s three in the morning. The time I said I’m best prepared for. Ha! To deal with whatever crises crop up in the world. A terrorist attack. Another hurricane. Something with Bill. Whatever. And I would be up to it. To all of those. But look what it’s come down to. I’m exhausted, not delusional as so many pundits are claiming—I know how to count—but I don’t know how to stop this. Or what to do. Everyone’s speculating. But I’m the one who has to figure it out. So what else is new?

If it weren’t for Chelsea I would know. Who was it that said—“End the madness”? But so many people throughout my life told me, even from when I was a child--especially then--that I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t do that. Is that what I want Chelsea to take away from this? That I couldn’t make this happen? What kind of a lesson, what kind of a model would that be?

Last night, she and I had a few drinks together. She is such a love. She told me how proud of me she was. How what I have achieved in my life inspired her. Continues to. It made me cry. Not the way they smirked about in New Hampshire. But really cry.

Chelsea took me in her arms, we had had a lot to drink!, and said to me that it’s OK mom, it’s time for you to take a step back. Not to give up but to recognize what all the numbers are saying. That I can’t win this. I mean the nomination. Things are now stacked against that. And she told me that’s it’s not my fault. I did everything I could. I worked my heart out. Like, she assured me, I always did.

Well, it was my fault. I didn’t say that to her of course, she was being so wonderful, but I know. I know. I may be exhausted and frustrated and traveling on fumes as some snark on TV said, but if there’s one thing even my enemies will say about me, I’m not stupid and if I wanted to I could make a list of the things I could have done differently.

First of all I could have voted against authorizing this fucking war. When people look back on this campaign that’s what they’ll point to as doing me in—even before it started. But I got tangled up in it like a lot of others. I’m still kicking myself for voting with Bush. Not because I saw things the wrong way—quite the opposite—I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. Minimally it was premature. Invading Iraq. But I had to show them that a woman could have balls. Could be commander in chief. I was running for president even back then, even for years before that, and wanted to show them. But look how my miscalculation screwed me. Some would say it was my ambition. That too.

And there are more things I could put on the list—no Plan B after not putting him away on Super Tuesday, not telling Bill to cool it in South Carolina (why did I continue to listen to him, to believe in him?), not keeping my people on a shorter leash, not keeping an eye on the money, not understanding the importance of the caucuses.

And not seeing sooner how good a candidate he would turn out to be. It may turn out to be that no matter what I did would not have made a difference.

That’s another irony—I, I made him stronger! If I had stayed on the high road and talked about just the issues, had ignored rather than attacked him—saying that all he is is a speechmaker . . . and worse—he’d be still stumbling around sounding like an empty suit and instead of him I’d be the one picking a running mate. So I have that on my plate too.

OK, so how to think about this? What should I do? The media clack are speculating about what I want—to be on the ticket, to bring him down so I can run again in four years (I’ll still be “young,” they say—they should only know), to become Senate Majority Leader (are you listening Harry Reid?), to run for governor, and who knows what else. I know the possibilities as well as they. Better.

Others say I should be thinking about history—how I want to be remembered if this turns out to be the high point. And what about the so-called Clinton Legacy? But whose legacy are they talking about? His? Mine? Ours? Though there’s a point there. Even Chelsea was talking with me about this the other night. Because maybe it involves her as well. She didn’t say anything about this. She doesn’t think in those terms. She leaves that to her father and me. She at the moment just wants to take care of me. To make sure I’m all right and come through this in one piece. She’s really worried about that.

And to tell the truth there are times when I too worry about this. I can’t believe what I said at the end of last week. It scared me that I said what I said. Yes, scared me. About his base. And about hard-working Americans and white people. They quoted me out of context. What else is new? Someone asked me about an Associated Press report and I was talking about it. But I did on my own add the bit about “hard-working.” And connected that to “white people.” That wasn’t in the AP story. I’m not that delusional! I did that.

Look, I know we made race an issue. Back in South Carolina. Both Bill and me. I can’t deny it. It’s on the record and whoever writes about this in the future will point that out and maybe say that’s why things turned out as they have. I don’t have to wait to read what they will write. I know what doing that did to the demographics. His and mine. That was calculated. And it was in the heat of battle. When who would come out on top was very much uncertain. Look, they were playing the gender card. No, I’m not saying that he was, but all the media people were. When looking at the exit polling numbers they were saying it was women who were my strongest supporters, who were keeping me in the race. So what were we to do? To ignore the fact that he was black? They weren’t ignoring the fact that I’m a woman. This is a bloody business. There’s not much pretty about it.

But last week was different. I can’t deny it--what I said just slipped out. I didn’t calculate or parse it or test it in focus groups. I said it after it was all over.

Yes, I’m still making a big thing about continuing, not giving up. No woman should. In spite of what she told me I think even Chelsea wants me to keep fighting. Though I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just projecting because I can’t stop.

Forget the Clinton Legacy. What about the Hillary Rodham Clinton Legacy? The other one is about him with me sittin’ there at his side nodding along like a bobble-head wife. The Little Lady Legacy, the Mrs. Clinton Legacy, the stay-at-home-baking-cookies Hillary. I’m sick of that one.

But I need to ask myself what have I really accomplished on my own, in my own name? That was the whole purpose of the experience argument. But that didn’t work either. Too many young people, including young woman, rejected that. But that was the deal I made years ago. A lot of women did. They didn’t understand, that previous generation. Maybe they don’t even care. To these young women it was just another kind of slam-bang, thank you ma’am. Where they did the slamming! Enough of that too.

I don’t know what this should compel me to do. Try to get on his ticket, for example. After all, there hasn’t ever been a female vice president. I don’t know. Maybe if I could get a good night’s sleep after West Virginia I’ll be able to think it through. That’s what Bill is telling me—to be a part of history. Not just a footnote. I know that works for him. But for me? I’m not so sure.

But there is one thing I do know for sure—I don’t want to be remembered as just the candidate of white women over 65 who never went to college. Nothing wrong with them. They need representation, they need a voice and I’m proud that they have selected me. And they have. If there’s a forgotten group in this county that hardly anyone pays attention to it’s these women. They don’t have any organizations or constituency groups or lobbyists working for them. So if they will be a part of my legacy I’m fine, very fine with that.

Then there’s also been another part of my constituency. And Bill’s too. I’ll give him that. A big part. They were with me until South Carolina. And then they gravitated, really rushed to him. I know that a big part of that was that many of them for the first time in their lives, for the first time in history saw the possibilities. The real as opposed to the token possibilities. I understand that. In fact, part of our calculation to talk about race, OK—to make it an issue, was from understanding that. That there was nothing we could do to continue to hold onto them. They were and would inevitably drift away to him. Look, many of my own supporters came to me for the same kind of reasons. So I really understood that.

But still, in spite of knowing about these kinds of powerful attractions, I can’t reconcile what I said last week.

In the time that remains I have to do something about what I said last week. Some significant repair work. Though it’s not my inclination I have to figure out why I let that slip out and what it says about me. About what I really believe and who I truly am. But there will be time for that later. And I won’t be doing that on Meet the Press!

What then should I do now? Have to do now? There’s not much time for that, but I have to do something to make amends, to bring about some kind of reconciliation. This is important. Very.

Things are going to get even more complicated after today’s vote in West Virginia. What happens if I get 65 percent of the vote? That’s a real possibility. My people and the media who love the horse race will be telling me to keep going. To do the impossible. To even take things to the floor of the convention in August. I could do that. Wait for the sky to fall. Who knows? Maybe there’s another Reverend Wright lurking. Or a bimbo. I know about that one!

So I don’t know. I need to try to do the right thing. Maybe not just for myself but . . .

If I could only get some sleep than maybe I’d be able to figure it out.