more me.
the first entry.
archives of previous entries.

me1.
me2.
diary
directory listings
my poetry
webcam stills

Tuesday, December 19, 2000
I ran into a friend of Forrest's last night ...
Nick. I went to Border's and saw him. We talked for a while, then Forrest came up in the conversation. I found out that he and his roommate, Burt, had been kicked out of Shippensburg for marijuana use and possession in their dorm room. Idiots. They also had alcohol, I believe. Morons.
So. It's so weird that he went so downhill after we broke up. The only reason he didn't do it before was because he was with me and I would not have tolerated it. He talked to me before of moderation, though he obviously doesn't know the meaning of the word.
I guess I can relate to that.
Tomorrow I see my psychiatrist about my medication. Yesterday I saw my counselor. I still have not been to school, and won't be there tomorrow because of my appointments ... for in the afternoon, I am going to get my heart monitor, etc. Woo fun. I want to get off medication. My psychiatrist will probably think this is a bad idea. I don't care. If I need to take meds to make my heart behave, that's fine. But I am tired of fucking with my own head. I feel like a hypocrite. I don't like things like alcohol or marijuana or such things, but I take medicine that alters my own brain. It doesn't make sense to me anymore. I can justify it, but it doesn't make me happy. Literally or figuratively. At this point, I think a good deal of my depression is external. I need to take care of my life.
At my appointment yesterday, Lenore asked me what my greatest fear is, and I said, "Stagnation." Then she asked what I was doing. "Stagnating," I replied. So how do I change this? What can I do? I don't know.
I could use a change of scenery. Something of a small vacation, where I have NO responsibilities for a couple days. Where someone else is doing everything. Where I don't have to do anything but have fun.
I'd really like to go to Ilwaco, WA. Or Chicago. I miss chicago. A lot.
Someday I'll go back to california, though not to LA. It holds nothing for me. I think I'll go to San Diego.
I know people there.
For now, it's about time to sleep ... time to dream. I've been having more and more trouble distinguishing my dreams from reality. Luckily my brain gets sloppy and adds details that couldn't occur in real life. Otherwise I'd be even more confused than I already am.
and that's all.
11:18 p.m.

Sunday, December 17, 2000
hm, mental ward or suicide?
choices
choices
choices
done both of them. Or tried.
oh the decision is KILLing me

Ok. so. I was sitting on a chair by the cordless phone .. it in my hands, looking at it. I had no one to call. No one to talk to. And again I started crying. yeh. Again.
This is the self-pity I've been feeling now for months. Somehow it's culminated in today. Kind of. I've been growing increasingly bitter, pushing my friends and potential friends away through arguments, misunderstanding, and lack of communication. I don't know what I'm doing. I think I may be going insane.
Hey. Owen's engaged. It's so funny, the way things work. She is living the life he painted so vibrantly for me a year ago. I'm sure I'll wake up sometime soon, to find that he never existed, and I am still in college, only a little depressed, and it will be november 19, and I won't be in a hospital.
Fuck.
I think I'm going crazy. TOo sane, I guess, because Ifeel this. I don't even know what to say anymore. I don't want to care. Everything aches inside, the bits that don't feel hollowed out. My head hurts all the time, I don't eat, I sleep poorly, but for 16 hours, I cry. The moments of lucidity are sweet and I cherish them. I hold on to them, because it was in my lucidity that I declined the prescription for the anti-anxiety pills which I probably would have od'ed on again by now. I talked to my mom a few days ago and she asked if I still had the prescription of anti-anxiety pills I got last time I was having attacks.
There was a silence.
"Mom," I said, "That was the stuff I overdosed on."
"Oh."
I can't believe she forgot.

08:27 p.m.

an addendum to earlier today
right now I am at my friend Rachel's house.
I called her on the way to the hospital. Oh yeah. I didn't go to work today, instead I drove to the emergency room. Only she and my boss knew I was going. I had a cool gay nurse and an awesome ska-loving scottish doctor. They were both very kind to me.
They monitored my heart rate, which was very high. Because I came in to the ER with heart problems, I got "served(?)" right away. They said it was a panic attack, but I should get some sort of thing from my doctor to have my heart monitored for 24 hours to make sure it wasn't something more.
I'm pretty sure it's something more.
Judith and Rachel came to the hospital and took me home with them, and fed me. At the hospital, Dr. Roberts (cool scottish guy) told me he wanted to give me some anti-anxiety pills and I declined. I told him I once OD'd on them, on purpose, and didn't want to have access to anything like that. So he gave me one to take at the hospital, then gave me another one - a single pill - to take with me. I don't really want to take it, ever. It scares me.
I am exhausted now. All of me feels weird and cotton stuffed. I hope that I can sleep tonight. I need to so badly. I'm glad I don't have school tomorrow. I think I'll take off work as well.
I cannot wait to sleep.

Tuesday, December 12, 2000
I am not well ..
I keep shaking and stuttering in my head and speech. And last night I had strange dreams. I fell asleep on the couch around 10 pm and woke up at 4am, then went to my own bed. I did not get out of it until 3 this afternoon. I would not have gotten out at all except I need to leave for work in three minutes.
Last night I was hyperventilating, my left arm and leg kept going numb, my heart was palpitating, and my head kept going staticky and weird. Today is a lesser form of all of it. I am eating sugar cookies and refried beans. I miss my father.
When I woke up at 4am there was a message on the answering machine from my friend Rachel's mom, Judith. She is a nurse, and I called her last night because I didn't feel well. She was not home. I know I was asleep by 10 because in her message, it was 10. I called Rachel, and my friend Seth, too ... but there is no one to talk to. There was and there isn't. There is no one for me to call. There is no one to talk to.
Shaking and twitching and being haunted by strange dreams.. dreams within dreams within dreams that all tied together into a sticky mess that I want to unravel. Dreams of retribution, love, anger, hate, forgiving, nudity, want, need, strength, weakness .. my life? I dunno. I was working in a library, praised for a half-assed effort I made. I colored my hair green and purple, and my horns fell out in large clumps. I gave them to the people at Angry, Young, and Poor. I pushed my skateboard because it was illegal to ride it. I left my family on the way home from the west, and found Owen on his way to Pennsylvania. We had sex in a stranger's loft, and he came home with me. We went to a halloween party and I was naked except for my underwear, and I was the only person bothered by it. Except for when I was getting back into my clothing, no one cared. Owen and some girl left and drove to Pittsburgh without telling me. Then she called me, and I was confused. There were no reasons for anything. Owen and I were in my room, and made out. It's been a year, why am I dreaming of him again? Is this my head saying "goodbye?" I thought this was all out of my system ... anyway, in the Halloween dream I recalled my dream of working at the library, as though it were a dream. How can I remember dreams within dreams? My parents were angry that Owen was "back" in Pennsylvania. In my dream, it had been he who had visited me a year ago, and not the other way around. We did not want to be "together" in my dream. It was convenience. Is that how it was in real life?
My head hurts. So many things hurt. I could go back to sleep and just keep going back to sleep until I didn't wake up anymore. Didn't I used to have someone I could talk to this about? Didn't there used to be people I could share mutual caring with? What the fuck?
So I write more poetry and let my confusion be the only clear constant in my life. That and the boredom of school, work, sleep, school. My heart, what is wrong with it? Why does it keep fluttering like this?
Why can't I remember to eat? Why can't I sleep soundly as I used to?
Why won't the dreams dissipate totally anymore? This is like poison building up in my veins, and heart, to rupture eventually and kill me.
I need something to change. I need to change something.
I am tired, and not well. I need to do something. I think I will.

04:26 p.m.

Sunday, December 10, 2000
ow
I had a good day.
But right now I feel awful. My head hurts so badly I can't think. Went to the aquarium with april and felt so good. Felt so happy.
I hate when the feelings swallow the whole
and I'm left in feeling just now.
Nothing is much working right now and I don't know who to talk to.
My sister called tonight.
We talked.
my head aches.
the aquarium was beautiful and it would be so nice to just go there all the time. I think I'll type wit hmy eyes closed now. my head hurts. I'm into drama though I hate it and don't we alawys become what we hate?
why do we let ourselves live lies? ugh. and I am so sick of this. my head hurts. I think I will sleep soon.
I need to get out of more than just this place. this mindset, these people, my upbringing and prejudice. I don't even know what I'm prejudived about. other people's prejudices perhaps. I mix up the v and c a lot. It sucks.
my head hurts.
nad that's all I wanna say because I am not making much sense, I think I'll vomit, and I am too selfish to not want to die. I'm glad my father exists. He will not lose me now.
thanks
09:32 p.m.

Friday, December 8, 2000
oh.
ow.
it.
hurts.
california will be the bane of my existence.
Seth is going there.
Damn boys and their foolish notions.
Scratch that.
Damn me and my idealism, romanticism, and continuing trust for all I should not. BLAH
Man. There's no water at my house. THis sucks. I think I'll check the faucets again.

Still none.
My dad is in alabama right now, visiting his dying father. Fun. My fingers and toes are cold and I have a headache. This whole not eating or sleeping well thing is making me ill. I think I'll retire to my room soon and snuggle under the blankets and read bad novels.
fare thee well.
oh, and a few people read last week's (?) entry and were worried. Please don't do that. Either be my friend all the time (serhii) or don't bother. I hate that half-way shit.

01:02 p.m.

Friday, December 1, 2000
I think most people in my life exist only to confuse me.
that whole self-centered business happening again. I'm sick of it. Missed another week of school.
I swear this time I'll pull myself together.
I promise.
It doesn't matter that it feels the same as it did a year ago. It doesn't matter that I'm depressed all the time. I feel like I've reversed roles. I'm the place I didn't understand, but still me. I hate this. I don't know what to do. I'm not comfortable around any one any more.
As soon as I find someone to talk to, they disappear. I am so tired of it. Tired of self-pity. Tired of all of this. Ugh.
blah blah blah. tired. hurting and sad. I know it's all my fault. All my choices. I take it out on everyone. self-loathing. self-hating. self-hurting. Let's just slide deeper and deeper, taking the easy way out. circles cut deep into my life that I follow. That others follow. It's easier this way.
high maintenance because I talk things through. Because I have to get angry to understand myself. sometimes it's the only way I can get things out. it all feels fake and I don't know what to do or who to talk to because all my friends I guess aren't really around. I don't know if I ever fit in and I don't think I ever will and it really hurts being ostracized.
I am so crying. It feels like if I sob enough, the emptiness should come out. like .. like ... vomiting the illness up. but it never works. I cry and cry and feel worse and worse and still am empty. still am lonely. still don't fit in.
still have no one to talk to that I can count on being honest and fair and all that. am not desired.
am not wanted.
fuck. I thought I was happy being alone.

11:16 p.m.

Tuesday, November 28, 2000
I might start doing an article for this guy Rich ..
he does the diesel sweeties comic. I love it.
He thinks I should be more sex-empowered. I've been really down on myself lately, thinking I'm unattractive and other such bullshit things. I'm trying to get out of this rut. Slowly I'm crawling out.
now .... I sleep. I went on college radio for Millersville today and talked about anarchy.
It was fun.
I need to do it more often.
Gnight!!

12:24 a.m.

Thursday, November 23, 2000
yeah, I haven't written for a couple days ..
Heaven forbid.
So, my "rebirthday" was ok. I attempted to take Jared out for dinner, but we were really short on time. We ended up being twenty minutes late for Alex's play ... but it was alright. It was a good play.
Um. And today was thanksgiving. Last night I went to Beth's and was supposed to help her with stuff, but instead I tried to sleep on the couch. Eventually Beth joined me, with her head at the other end .. she was stoned and kept hitting on me and I couldn't sleep. Finally around 4am, after she'd fallen asleep hours before and kept me awake with her snoring, I struggled out of her grasp (she had my leg pinned between her's) and slept on the floor. Fitfully. I'm not good at sleeping with other people around .. especially when the other person is beth. :/
I like hanging out with Beth, I'm just not attracted to her. And she is to me, though I think it's dying down. but anyway ...
was driving home from Philly today (had a good vegan meal at Beth's) and was thinking about New Year's. About where I was at the beginning of this year, and where I would be at the beginning of 2001. Literally nothing is the way I planned it to be, or expected it to be. It hurts a lot. I try not to think about it too much but it's been really hard. Lately people have been asking me about Owen, though that's my own fault. I wonder and wonder. Fuck. Just fuck.
I'm so lonely again. And even more I understand how I got into the situation I did last year. I know when I stop looking, good things will happen, but I can't do that. Not can't, just won't. It doesn't work that way. It's just something I need to accept, but lately I've been having trouble accepting anything, let alone my sorry ass past. My pathetic sorry full of mistakes self-loathing stupid past. I wash you away from time to time .. but it gravitates back. arghh!!
This has been who I talk to since I lost Forrest. This has been my best friend. A fucking web entry. Stop this. Stop self-loathing. Why have I fallen back into this? Because I have no one to be co-dependent with? I feel unattractive and uninteresting and .. and .. lonely and icky and damn it. This isn't how it was. I was expecting more and wanting more and I'm sick. My head and mind and emotions are ill. How do you heal that? How does one go about curing this? Fucking melodrama. Ugh.
and those who hate it most are those who use it frequently. Hi. Frequent melodrama club.
founder and member.
Welcome.
Singing songs in the car to escape the radio. Alkaline Trio, the Broadways, Jets to Brazil. My soundtrack for depression. Stupid. I used to sing NIN songs when I was 14. I guess I've graduated? Yeah. I sing my own songs too, that I want to remember to write down, but never do. They just happen. I remember one line, "I hate heterosexual preppy white males and their female counterparts." It's true. They're sheep. Have fun being no one.
I'm tired. I'm cranky. I have school and work tomorrow and don't feel like doing either.
I missed school yesterday. Fuck.
Time to grow up and learn some self-discipline. I've never been good with responsibility.

11:54 p.m.

Friday, November 17, 2000
I just got off the phone from a heartfelt sobfest with Rachel ..
and I feel a lot better now.
Tonight I came home from work, and stood outside of my house, aghast at the stars. They are so beautiful where I live - the sky is so clear and the longer I stare the more I can see. After a minute or two, however, the cold reminded me of my destination, and I hurried into the house.
I had a burning need to create. I put on an old Offspring album and started running around the house wildly, looking for things I needed to concoct my great creation. It would involve broken bottles, paper, oil pastels, charcoal, broken mirrors, and other odds and ends. I didn't end up getting very far because I started crying.
It's all been resolved, for the most part, so I won't explain. But I feel better now, and ready to sleep so I can get up in 6 hours and start all over again.
It's nice to start over.
I'm glad I've had that option.
cheers!

11:38 p.m.

Thursday, November 16, 2000
When I stepped outside from work today ...
it was around 9pm, and mostly starless. The air was slowly stirring and hit me with the scent of the anticipation only felt before a lover's kiss; the warmth and smell of their breath, just before lips meet. How I love that smell.
Minutes earlier, in the stockroom, I blocked my fellow employee with my body. I breathed him deeply, to remember what it was like to have a boy near me. He smelled like pink innocence, slightly tainted by a serious girlfriend; an almost fiancee. I let him walk by me, but not before I could savor his sweet nervousness. These games I play border on harrassment, but I will never cross that line if I can help it.
Today I decided to let others take a chance with my future. My hands are too mangled from closing my eyes and jabbing at its wildness. I am staying in school. I am being transferred to a different store. I am strangely relieved. To celebrate my one year rebirthday, I think I will take Jared out to dinner. He doesn't know this yet. I, however, think it's about time he and I had a proper date. Plus, this is an important thing I need to celebrate with an important person. Jared's about as important as they get. :)
(at least to me)
There was something else I needed to express. Something has gotten away from me again. The past bit of time I've been afflicted with a tremulous (is that a real word? did I make that up?) emotional malady. I am quite afraid I lost a fraction of my grip on sanity. THings, however, have been put in perspective. I like thinking that saturday midnight is my rebirthday. It sounds very goddess-like and positive. I think I'd like to be goddess-like and positive. It is a much nicer way to think of things. I know these positive mindsets never last long, but luckily neither do the negative ones. I've been suffering through bouts of forced loneliness, and that is a silly thing to do. There really is no point to it. So I won't do it any more.
I! Am! EMILY! AAAAH!!!! And I damn well better get used to it.
Since I've been remembering where I was this time last year, I've decided to also try to remember where I was in previous years. I think the year before last I was probably with Forrest. I was rather empty and fake-feeling when I was with Forrest, through no fault of his. It was just a time of growth, and strange things often happen at those ages. I wanted to be real. My rebirth shed a great deal of that outer stuff I was trying so hard to get rid of when I was with Forrest. I appreciate things more now than I did before. Sanity, being in control of your functionings, is a nice nice warm fuzzy feeling. If not that, it is at least comforting to know you decide your fate, and with a bit of competence. The problem with depression is that it seems to spiral downward, with no regards to the person enthralled in it. Yet depression is frequently a choice as well. Sometimes it is a necessary choice to make, but it is a choice nonetheless. I freely admit that I have made that choice more than once, though without realizing it. I will take responsibility for the shitty things that have happened to me, because I put myself in those situations. I allowed myself to go there. To take responsibility for such things does not burden me - it frees me to realize that means I also have the choice to make better decisions. I can turn things around again, like I did last year, and like I've been doing. Apparently I'd been heading into a 360, but I'm fixing it. No more turning around. It was a lapse and didn't do much damage. I will carry through.
Chicago will still be in Illinois, whether I get there now, or in April, or in six years. Chicago will wait. This education, though, I need to deal with it now. My mind cannot wait for that. I must continue before I lose interest.
How I do love my imagination and short attention span :). Yet it does concoct such pretty things --

and adieu.

11:35 p.m.

Thursday, November 16, 2000
argh.
2 days and counting.
01:36 a.m.

Wednesday, November 15, 2000
I was turning over this imaginary conversation in my head,
as I am wont to do. I go to a regional meeting for RadioShack in about 3 hours. Since I've cut my hair (again) I look especially masculine. The fact that I've been favoring contacts rather than glasses has helped, as has the starkly male based dress code for RadioShack.
So the conversation would go something like this:
him: Are you a girl or a boy?
me: Huh?
him: Well, I think you're a girl, but your hair and clothing looks like a guy.
me: I see. Well. Are you a human or a machine?
him: Wha ..?
me: Well, you LOOK human, but you so perfectly do whatever anyone tells you to do, it makes me wonder.
and the witty banter is ended.
I've been bitter lately, as though it were not starkly obvious from my recent postings here. I've been falling into the dismal spiral I entered last year, though without the suicidal tendencies (ha ha, reference to one of my favorite bands). Basically I've not been to school for a week now as I find it next to impossible to get out of my bed before 12:30. I've been meaning to call the director at my school to discuss matters with her. Right now I'm turning half a million ideas around in my head. My dad is quite steadfastly angry with my absences at school. I've been avoiding him at all costs. Not too cool of me, but there's no way I can explain to him what's been going on with me. Right now I'm lucid but about an hour ago I was feeling rather insane. I hate that. I felt like I was 12, writhing my sheets, bawling and unable to stop. This has been hurting and I'm not really sure what to do.
My head hurts constantly. I haven't been eating. When I do eat, it's usually just chocolate. I've been depressed, insane, sane, sad, happy, but most of all confused. I feel like I'm struggling against some sort of forced cage. I resent my inability to be on my own. I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to live with my dad anymore. I'm 19, soon to be 20, and if I don't get out of here soon I fear internal explosion.
Aaaaaaah.
Orkie made me a tape. I'm listening to it now. It's really amazing. I love that boy, even though we beat each other up a lot. He got mad at me because I changed the "My Computer" thing to "Yer Mom" on his computer. I think it's a silly reason to be mad.
I have research to do. Research for living. Research of Chicago, and school, and staying alive and sane. My counseling appointment was cancelled yesterday because Lenore was ill. Argh. I could have used that talk.
And now, I go.

03:13 p.m.

Wednesday, November 15, 2000
oh yeah...
this saturday night (november 18) is the year anniversary of my suicide attempt. I'll be one year old.
Fuck I'm scared ...

12:31 a.m.

Tuesday, November 14, 2000
I am sick of stupid boys saying that girls only go for assholes ...
and then deciding that, because of this, they should become a total jerk. Yeah! Good linear thinking! Because getting girls and getting fucked is really all that matters in life. Maybe when you're 18. Fuck, what am I talking about? It really does seem that way. NYC Tony has that mindset and he's 24. Too many males, too many PEOPLE think only in terms of attracting the opposite sex. Mind you, I'm referring to hets. I don't know many (or any, really) bis or gays that feel this way. At least the queer community, for the most part, has it figured out. At least THAT part of "it."
Anyway. People need to stop thinking that finding some significant other will make their lives whole and complete. THat's bullshit. If you're not happy with yourself, if you're not complete alone, there's no way in hell you'll be happy or whole with someone else. If anything, you'll just be fucking up two people instead of one (as in yourself). If you feel empty, the problem is within, not because you don't have someone. People are always looking outside to fix themselves instead of admitting that the problem is within. Humans tend to have a HUGE problem with accepting responsibility for their actions and choices.
No one should ever live their life for another person. That would be a false sense of security and love. It is matyrism and is lying. More than anything, it is a power trip - a thing to hold over the heads and consciences of those you dedicate your services to. For those who are sincere and generous, then it is a good thing. But for all others, you are only lying to yourself, and hurting those you "mean" to help.
And these are the issues I've been dealing with. Not with me. Obviously I am aware of them. It is the things I've been seeing with other people that are annoying me. If you do not want to attract people that only care about appearances, then don't try to attract them. Humans make things so hard on themselves, and there's no reason for it. They all like playing the victim. That's why stupid boys think that girls only like assholes. Chances are 1) she didn't know he was an asshole or 2) she likes being a victim.
In all, people need to stop making excuses and accept responsibility for their actions and situations. They need to rely on themselves because it's healthy. They need to be happy with themselves before they go searching for someone else. Only you can "fill the hole within." No outside source can help you. and again .. "if you search without for what you need within, you'll never find it."
My wisdom.

10:53 p.m.

Tuesday, November 14, 2000
For the fourth day in a row I am not going to school.
This has become a bad bad habit. The week before Halloween I didn't go to school. The first two days this time I had reasons, but now it's just ridiculous. I tried calling Jared to see if he wanted to hang out, but no luck. If I could only find his pager number ...
My head hurts. My neck hurts. My shoulder hurts. All parts of me that usually just are tight are aching today. I blame it on the weekend at Goucher and the excessive ass-kicking I did. argh. My dad is pissed at me. This feels so high school.
All I want to do is loaf around and read. Going to work is no problem, really, I just don't want to go to school. Whine whine whine. Bitch bitch bitch. Let's talk about feelings.
I'm feeling good and petty today. Nice and shallow. My head is aching and my brain is not fully functioning. I feel melancholy and confused. I want to watch the Abyss and cuddle.
02:37 p.m.

Monday, November 13, 2000
fuck.
I went to Towson this weekend.
It was good. RIght now I am expressing myself to Adolfo. It too is good.
An example follows.

horned chaos: Hey Adolfo.
horned chaos: Any chance of me getting my stuff back sometime soon?
Weakened Blow: yes yes and yes.
horned chaos: And why have you been telling me this since april and I've still not seen it?
Weakened Blow: i have fallen behind due to work, and that's no excuse, but sorry
horned chaos: It is no excuse. It has been 7 months.
horned chaos: I do not make idle threats. Not for you.
horned chaos: and when I say it takes work for me to dislike someone, it is not a lie. And also when I say I do not like you, it is total truth.
horned chaos: I have been reading about buddhism and trying to balance myself. but when I think of you I think of blood.
Weakened Blow: that is serious
horned chaos: Please try to refrain from annoying me further, Adolfo. I sincerely liked you.
horned chaos: Very sincerely and deeply.
horned chaos: You worked very hard to gain my dislike. If you would like to stop the increase of my rage, you need to return my things.
horned chaos: Promptly. Now.
Weakened Blow: and i as well. i shall not fuel you with anger anymore. you will
Weakened Blow: recieve it
horned chaos: For your sake, I hope so. It will not be too long before I return to chicago.
horned chaos: and I know ways of finding you, if you will not face me yourself.
Weakened Blow: okay. if all goes well, we should hang out
Weakened Blow: and let bygones be bygones, etc.
horned chaos: Yes. You fulfill your side and I will not hurt you.
horned chaos: I'll be expecting mail from you within the week.
horned chaos: No excuses, adolfo.
horned chaos: You've had seven months to save up for the postage.
Weakened Blow signed off at 3:25:13 PM.

Friday, November 10, 2000
I felt the need to express myself ..
I've been mostly sad since my party. Since sunday. The fifth. I guess it's the tenth now ... about to become the eleventh. I've been sad. Too sad. Maybe it's November.
Last night April and Dahni came over and I bored them by painting. It was 11pm. I didn't go to school or work. I don't know why. I keep crying. I feel sick. I don't eat. Fucking November ..
and still the dreams continue. I had some weird perverse dream a few nights ago. It involved some game in which all the players were naked and we had to go on a scavenger hunt type thing and rub certain objects against our genitalia until orgasm. It was weird. What's even more annoying is that one of my coworkers was in it. The one whose girlfriend I go to school with. In my dream he had a nine inch erection, or thereabouts. It was amazing. I asked him to cum inside of me, and he agreed. He had some sort of sheath on his penis - it wasn't exactly a condom. His girlfriend was there too. But she seemed ok with the thought of he and I having sex. I woke up, or changed dreams, before we could. I don't really remember what else happened, except for me masturbating with a rotting apple and also some stuffed animals. They all had a story behind them.
anyway.
I am sad. It's annoying. I keep randomly crying. THat too is annoying. I worked stuff out with the music major. I think about him a good deal, but oh well. I think about a lot of people more than I should. It would be cool with me if I didn't think of anyone romantically. I just long for attention and love. It will be the death of me, or something along those lines.
argh.
must ... pull .. out ... of ... sadness ...
must ... get ... self ... together ...
AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!
"what if I'm the one who's crazy? I'm not crazy, just frustrated ... !!!" I love the broadways. Best band ever.
I get tired of talking about california and hearing about chicago. I don't miss ca anymore, but I miss chicago hellishly. I keep missing school, and then thinking I should just leave everything and go to chicago. I don't have the money, but i don't care.
God. I need to leave. I need a change. I need a change so badly, this is killing me.

dear you,
will you let me hold on to this dream a little longer, let me write you poetry? there are a lot of things I need to say, and no one to say them to. I have a lot of emotions I never get to express -- can I pretend I feel them for you? It requires nothing on your part, just your beautiful eyes. A kiss from time or two or three, hold my hand, embraces. I can imagine them, instead, if it causes discomfort. Just please. Let me love you.
emily.
11:28 p.m.

Wednesday, November 8, 2000
This one goes out to Missi ...
Missi and I have been talking for several months. I met her on punkrock.net, and she's wonderful wonderful wonderful. We've yet to meet in person, but I really like talking to her online.
She recently stumbled into a bunch of icky stuff, and has been getting increasingly suicidal. Today she asked me about my own experience from nearly a year ago, and I told her about it. She then told me she had five bottles of sleeping pills and 2 bottles of whiskey. She also admitted she didn't really want to die, she just wanted to stop hurting.
Together, we decided it would be best if she got treatment rather than dying. So she called a treatment center and is on her way there. I admire her strength and am sending my love and encouragement to her now. She is supposed to write to me, and I anxiously await the letter.
Missi, I'm sure it will be a long time before you read this (if ever) but you will make it and you are wonderful and thank you for not giving up.

07:56 p.m.

Tuesday, November 7, 2000
fuck this.
I frequently try to avoid sweeping generalizations. But damn, I fuckin hate boys.

09:26 p.m.

Monday, November 6, 2000
Dear Self,
Please stop dreaming.
I am tired of remembering very strange dreams. I am tired of them lingering in the back of my head, haunting me. Please cease this torture and mental mutilation immediately.
Thank you for your time. I hope that my addressing this situation will bring about the change I so desperately require in order to obtain a restful sleep.
Sincerely,
Emily R., current occupant of body and mind.

ps - Thank you for finally accepting that Andy is a jerk. I apologize for the delayed gratitude, but as you know I have been very busy lately with school, work, and emotions. I am glad that you finally took Andy out of the list of people to miss. It is greatly appreciated.

11:49 p.m.

Sunday, November 5, 2000
last night a boy shared my bed with me.
I liked it.
My party was good. He was there with Forbes. I had met him several months ago at Erin's photo show in DC. He's a music major at University of the Arts in Philly .. where my sister graduated with a major in sculpture. He asks me questions about what she thought of it, but I rarely have positive answers. I like the school, but my sister is jaded and negative and too judgemental about it and art students. So we talked of other things ... or rather, I talked. When he first met me he didn't like me much. Last night he changed his mind. I think it's because I'm vegan friendly and kept trying to be a good hostess at my party. We looked at the stars briefly, and I offered to help him onto the roof, but he declined. I showed him my brother's room so he could sleep there, though he eventually changed his mind.
Of all the people at the party, he was the last I expected to say, "Can I stay with you in your bed tonight?"
Ah, I am melodramatic, overly romantic, and hopeless. I got his email address from Forbes and wrote to him. I hope he writes back. I hope my overuse of the words "he" and "him" are not confusing the people reading this. For some reason I do not want to give his name, though I remember all three of them.
It was good to hold him, and good to look into his eyes. I remember vividly walking in to a room where he was, and glancing over and seeing him. His eyes were so large. He seemed to be staring at me, but it was probably my imagination. I liked it, though. I also recall holding him, then looking at him and again seeing his large brown eyes. It felt like they were devouring me, and I liked it. I am so hopeless.
Tomorrow, this will be over. Tonight I dream. Tonight I sleep with Flanagan, my stuffed snake. I have been too used to sleeping alone. Now this music major has reminded me of how nice it can be to have someone beside me and I need to fill the space around me in the bed.
I should think of Raoul instead. Though he is farther away physically, I can reach him in other ways. He I can touch. Touching is so important to me. This weekend; the people around me; affection -- it has filled something that I have been lacking. I have had no one to hold. I have had no one to love. It was good to be reminded of such things. It was good to fall asleep beside someone, even though I knew they would be leaving in the morning.

11:17 p.m.

Thursday, November 2, 2000
ah, a year ago today/tomorrow -
I was writing poetry about him. Like this -

_abusing the first amendment_
maybe if i say "fuck" enough
it will make this feeling leave
but all i want is to see you
to talk and hear you
fuck
i'm talking to myself too much
feeling carved out inside
by the constant thoughts of you
fuck
fuck
and if i talk enough
fuck
about how you make
fuck
me feel
fuck
maybe
fuck
i
fuck
won't
fuck
feel
fuck
so
fuck
confused.
maybe i'll be able to work
maybe i'll sleep
maybe i will pass a day
without obscenities
today stretched into three weeks
all engulfed with you
all engulfed in you.
fuck.
california, here i come.
11/3/99

Last night I dreamt about Owen. I don't think it's possible to explain my annoyance.

_crushme_
thought about you constantly
a queasy feeling, like i haven't felt in .. in ..
years?
or months
time grows lonely in solidity
time grows so lonely

i fear your name
yet pine to hear it
scared to write for fear of loss
scared to tell anyone
scared to even talk

if i run it's not to run away from you
it's to kill what i feel growing
in my solitude
fertilized by loneliness and want
by need
oh ..
and by you
a million other sources
i think i'll run away again
to escape this wretched confusion
though if it's not you
it's a guarantee to be someone else
possibly someone less like me
i'm so scared of you,
and me,
and what we could feel.
what i already do.
oh what i do.
11/3/99

And in retrospect, sometimes I wish I had run away. THere is so much I learned though. So much I learned about myself and things in general. I had to break before I could get stronger, and he did help with that. I could not have come to the conclusions I did without him. Without that. I am sad, but not the way I used to be. I miss feeling so intensely about a person though. He really did permeate my thoughts, and no one has done that since him.

_untitled_
call me, baby
cause i get fuckin sick of waiting
feel like i'm obsessed nowadays
too much in my head
i could explode with the pressure of it
maybe i will
my personal suicide
explosion of ideas
ending in my death
morbid dreams reach out to me,
why?
i don't believe in that beauty shit
i feel so hollow today
all i have inside are my guts
and sometimes they recoil, too

everything says i'll live through 21
but all i see is blood

what touches you,
i wonder, just wonder,
what touches you inside?
what would it take for you to care,
to show me that you care?
what would it take to make me self-sufficient,
what would it take to make me real?

more than you could ever give me,
i think.
more than you could ever share.
you have to be real to ground others in reality
you have to be real to create.
11/2/99

Yeah I dreamt about him last night. I have never had a bad dream about him in the traditional manner. All the dreams I have of Owen involve love and caring and acceptance. He hugs me and we are together and happy, not necessarily together in the relationship sense (because in some of the dreams he has Alexis with him, and they are together and happy and I am, in turn, happy for them and the closure we reach together) but near each other and ok with that.
It hurts that I will never see him again. It hurts that I miss him. It has been a year. A year. I say I am over him. I can be. But it does not mean I do not dream or think of him. It does not mean I do not wonder why things turned the way they did.
In the same vein, I also dreamt of Josh, Jess, and Denver. It was contorted and I did not like it. Things did not go well. I have a lot of unexpressed hurt towards Josh, and I don't know if I'll be telling him about it any time soon. I guess I feel betrayed and used in ways I can't yet understand or tell. It is there, though, and I'd like for it to not be. He was one of the main anti-Owen people, and now I would not even feel comfortable conversing with him, nor do I desire such things.
He is who I called when I was in California, and then in LAX. He also said if I ever tried anything stupid again (like the suicide bit) he would kill me. It's kind of funny in a morbid way. Josh is like that. I guess I am too. We are too alike to be close.
I miss him too.
And Forrest, I miss little instances from our relationship .. like how we went to the Inner Harbor at Baltimore for independence day one year .. we sat in this glass-walled hallway and watched people walk by. When they were past us and out the doors, we would sing "ghetto booty!" at those deserving of such terms. I remember a lot of nice silly things about him, pleasantly. I do not want to be with him, I just like the memories. Forrest and I are totally different creatures now. I have refined my passion, and he has followed culture. We do not mesh in any way.
I am having an After Halloween Halloween Party on Saturday (ll/4/00). It's been a long time since I've had a party. I'm excited.
I didn't go to school last week. I've missed two days this week. Somehow I don't mind. I haven't had enough of what I call Emily time and I think this weekend will help me.
Oh. And I saw my new counselor on Tueday (her name is Lenore -- amazing) and she thinks I'm really cool. It rocks. She says I'm passionate and have long term goals and all this other stuff. It's just nice to hear those types of things. She went so far as to ask me where I got my wisdom. I was kinda confused and said, "I read a lot." It's true. I also observe and try to learn. I guess it works.
On other happier notes, I've bought four Transmetropolitan comic books. A year or so ago, I took a friend and his girlfriend to the doctor's, and he let me read these awesome comic books. I've thought of them infrequently since then, and found them at Border's last night (my hang-out, cuz I'm a geeky dork). So I bought all the ones they had. HEE HEE. It makes me very happy. :)
Hm. More stuff. The best part about living on a farm is the sky. It's so gorgeous. I'll be in York, and look at the sky and see a smattering of stars. I go home and look at the sky, and the more I look the more I see. If it wasn't so cold out this time of year, I would just get lost in it and probably spend the whole night out there. It's a shame only the winter nights bring out such abundance. The summer is good for lightning bugs, though. Mm. Lightning bugs. Some habits should never die - like catching (and releasing!) lightning bugs, blowing the fluffy stuff off seeded dandelions, running through fields of the afformentioned, playing the "butter" game with buttercups, painting faces, dressing up, and laughing for no reason with someone you care about. I'm so sentimental. I am so glad this is how I turned out so far. Except for the missing school part - that I could definitely do without.
Yes. There was so much I wanted to say (there always is). I saw THX-1138 and loved it. Watch it. It's good.
Mm. Goodnight, dear. It is sleep time soon.

11:38 p.m.

Sunday, October 22, 2000
my head hurts and wow.
I just feel like talking to someone.
I think I'll call Jared tonight. He called me while I was out today and left a wonderful message on the answering machine. I love him, but I don't want to just ... try to start something with him. He's like my best friend, despite our sporadic communications.

Ok. I've been writing this for an hour. Closer to the truth is that I just didn't write anything for an hour. I tried calling Jared and he wasn't home. Hopefully he'll call back before I go to sleep. I miss him. Chip called me and it was really great to talk to him. I still miss a lot of other people as well, and that sucks.
A year ago, a year ago. I think about it sometimes and start to crumble. And as november creeps closer I think more and more about where I was this time last year. Then all these images start piling up and I start seeing the real slide, from where the first pebble got loosened to where it all just crashed down and buried me.
Ugh. and I miss all this stuff, but I look back to last year, and things are so much better. Nothing is as I thought it would be, and I'm glad because I couldn't think of how anything would be in a year last year. It's better. I'm getting better. THings are ok. Just sometimes I crack. Quickly it fills and empties; I am fine again. Just with that vague ache that has never left.
I am healing, though I will always have the scar. I miss my friends and owen and chip and andy and jared and karstan and jon and john and john and john (I've know a lot of them) and tony and so many other fucking boys that have felt the need to enter and leave me. Except for john and jared and chip. Yeah.
and that girl on the bus. She never wrote me.
Life, it keeps going. I'm just waiting for the next thing to happen and trying to make the most of the interim.
Goodnight, self. Goodnight for now.

08:41 p.m.

Friday, October 20, 2000
I was thinking of strange things tonight
Singing in my car because the only station I could really get was the oldies station and I didn't feel like listening to it. The trials and tribulations of living the rural life. Anyway. I was singing this song I wrote - I've gotten so good at depressing myself / no wonder the shovel, it only goes down / when I wake up to morning I fall back in bed / hoping no dreams will follow this time / when I said to you / "will you wait for me?" / I didn't mean always, I meant until death / which lately creeps closer as twenty sneaks in / it wasn't a lie to me / wasn't a lie
lately those untruths / told long ago / get lodged in my head/ get lodged in my mind / and all those love stories / eleven to one / they play back in rewind / our voices too shrill /
we scream at each other / november nineteen / midnight lies gasping, spasms dorm floor / meanwhile the phone line is dreadfully short / I never could reach it / not even in dreams.
So I was singing that in different ways, trying to figure out how I liked it, and then I just started adding all sorts of verses. I don't really remember any of them very well, but I stumbled upon something I'd never thought too deeply on. If I had hung up on Owen that night, if I had not told him, if I had just lay myself on my bed and actually totally succumbed to my dreams ...
What would have happened?
I guess my roommate would have come into the room sometime the next day (my mother's birthday) and assumed I was sleeping. Death isn't something you expect to visit your infrequently seen roommate, really. I know I would not have expected to find Dani dead upon walking in to our room last year. So what would have happened?
And I know I tell myself not to think about such things, but it is a strange fascination. It doesn't make me feel sick or suicidal .... just curious. In a way, I did die that night. But it was a death of necessity, like a flower dying but leaving seeds behind. I have grown from the experience. I will never be who I was then, and I am glad for that.
On the same token, I don't regret the attempt. I was sincere in it. I would not have regretted dying.
In some other variant of the future, I did die. That me is gone now, leaving my others to fulfill their futures in whatever way pleases them. One of them is in California, one is in Chicago. Other ones may still be travelling. Perhaps one of them has long hair (but I doubt it). I, however, am in this house on a farm, living with my father, going to cosmetology school, and working at RadioShack. And boy, am I tired.

11:16 p.m.

Thursday, October 19, 2000
just an email I wrote today
Stuff happened between Jared and I and it weirded me out. I fought with him. We did not have a fight, I fought with him. So I hope things will be ok with him because I was wrong. He is my best friend.

Date: Thu, 19 Oct 00 23:53PM EDT
From: Emily
To: jared
Subject: I know I hsould be sleeping --

and I didn't feel like writing
or talking
or really saying anything to you today
But it's practically midnight and I needed you to see this.
I wrote a poem in june that I didn't tell you about.
I doubt you ever saw it.
I don't think you ever checked my poetry. No fault of your's. There's so much of it.
I just found it, because a friend's father wrote to me to tell me he liked my new stuff. It's weird though, because I haven't added any new things. I just updated the old.
So here is the poem I wrote called Jared. It sums up what I thought of you. and it makes me kinda melancholy.

thinkin of the way he holds his spoon
the way music dances through him at all times
embodied in his step and hand movements
shoulders hunched and fingers snapping
most of all, his voice in song
reedy but on every note it touches
piano played my favorite
harmonica, impressed
eyebrow motions quick enjoyment,
eyes closed with each embrace -
jared,
i love your smile.
6/17/00

Yeah and last night I talked to my friend Chris, he's a guy that you don't know because he lives in Ohio and I met him on the internet, and I read him lots of the stuff we said. And in reading it I heard myself and I heard you and Chris put things in perspective in the way only an outsider can. I expect too much from the people I care about.
I'm sorry.
I place my own moral standings on others and expect them to follow what even I do not. Not totally. Not consistently. But I'd been falling down in spirals the past week and I'm picking myself back up again. Things are ok, and I feel so old, but things work out. I take it for granted most of the time, but I love you and would do anything for you, and for any of my friends. I saw Carissa tonight. She stopped by RadioShack because her brothers saw me and told her I was there. It was good to see her.
And last night I thought about you. Everytthing felt better today. Why do I beat things up? I don't know. I don't know. I want you to read the things I've been writing. I want you to see my new painting. I want to share a lot of things with you and I miss you.
And I am sorry for taking myself out on you. For expecting too much.
I love you.
Emily

11:56 p.m.

Friday, October 13, 2000
this goes along with the first entry I ever made here
I wrote this for a friend of mine.
More insight into me.

A love story gone awry, part I

September, 1999. Without much enthusiasm, except that which comes from escaping a semi-unhappy homelife, I left Pennsylvania for Maryland, and college. A month before this change, my boyfriend of three years and I broke up on the same day I started therapy for depression. He left me more completely than I'd ever imagined, leaving me alone to deal with the reopening of wounds long covered. I was not pleased.
Worse yet, I was seriously questioning my decision to attend the small private liberal arts college, Goucher. Located in Towson, Maryland on the outskirts of Baltimore, it seemed to have a bubble around it, successfully separating it from the outside world. I had lived all my life in seclusion, on the same farm, for 18 years. Goucher did not aleviate this feeling, as I had hoped, but instead heightened it. I was even more out of touch than before.

I hated it.

This emotion crept in slowly, taking a full 2 months before I decided to call it quits. Like all bad things seem to do, I had a pile-up of scarring occurrences before the decision to leave finally knocked me up alongside the head. First, orientation. I had a wonderful time being social, but when night came I began having panic attacks. These were not the small shuddering crying shaking things I had known at the age of 14; these were full-blown screaming, hyperventilating, eye-rolling, convulsing tortures. The first happened the night of a dance the school put on. The guy I had hooked up with, Sean, was staying the night with me. I hadn't had a very good time at the dance because he kept flirting with my roommate, and when we got back to my room, I couldn't calm down. I was pacing, shaking my hands, unable to stand or sit still. Finally it tore out of me - the panic. I had three panic attacks that night and my face and left arm were numb yet tingling. Sean called campus security who in turn got an ambulance.
That was my first ride in the back of that creature, and certainly not the last.
The doctor diagnosed me with anxiety disorder and prescribed xanax to me. I was to take it at the first sign of anxiety. It was an addictive, potent drug, as I was to soon discover.
The doctor recommened I start counseling at school as soon as possible, and I agreed, explaining that I had planned to anyway. I was sent back the next day, after catching only a few hours of sleep. Sean had stayed with me the entire time. A day or two later I began to feel the anxiety rise again. I had not gotten the prescription filled and my friends made a wild dash to find someone to take me to a pharmacy. Dave (aka Grandma Dave), along with several others, took me to a pharmacy. I was screaming in the car, throwing myself against the window. Finally, I was able to take the xanax. Dave ended up having to carry me to my bed because I couldn't walk. Thinking back now, it doesn't surprise me much that not many people became close to me during my three month stay at Goucher.
The next time I took the xanax, I only took half of it. Still it kept me out for most of a day. The next time I had a panic attack, my RA was called. He in turn called the campus counseling services who then called me.

This is where it gets really bad.
I'd been at school for two or three weeks and had taken up the habit of cutting my wrists with safety pins and exacto knifes. It seemed to be the only way that I could relieve the stress building inside of me. After I'd go through a moderate list of numbers of my friends, having reached no one, I would cut my wrists in sadness, usuallly after a depressing bout of skateboarding around campus. They were no more than scratches, but it was enough for the counselor I saw on campus to get an emergency warrant to get me escorted by the police to the hospital on the basis of an emergency psycho evaluation.
At the risk of sounding TOO melodramatic, I'll explain the situation with more detail. The counselor I saw did not give me any sense of comfort or security. I told him my past history of depression and scratching. I told him of my panic attacks. I showed him my wrists. He told me that he wasn't trained for such cases, and left the room for fifteen minutes to converse with his colleagues. When he came back, he told me he wanted me to go to the hospital, but did not tell me why. I assumed he wanted to admit me into some psycho ward and told him I wouldn't go. Again he left for fifteen minutes. When he came back, he urged me again to go the hospital and again I refused. At this point it was one o' clock and I still had not eaten lunch. When the counselor left this time, so did I, after waiting five minutes. I went to the dining hall, where I ran into my RA. We talked for a while, then I went to my room to work on my excessive amount of homework.
An hour later, security came by and took me to the office of the head of campus security where I was detained until the police came and took me to the hospital.
My parents had been called and they and I were under the impression that I could go home for a day and see my counselor there, then return to school when she said I was ok. However, grevious miscommunication occured, ending with me in the back of a cruiser in my first police car ride. When I got to the hospital, I convinced the doctor that the people at Goucher were terminally stupid. He gave me some phone numbers of a few counselors for me to call, and told me I didn't need to stay at the hospital and was no threat to myself.
When I got to campus, security would not give me my keys back. Apparently the dean thought she had told us that I would not be allowed back on campus right away. Another grevious miscommunication. I cussed her out.
The next day, I stayed home, kept inside and off campus by a storm. The day after that I returned to campus, angry and vengeful.

10:53 p.m.

Friday, October 13, 2000
everything's fucking weird
A full moon on Friday the thirteenth.
What are the odds of THAT?
Finally got my first paycheck yesterday. A whopping $143. One seventy-five before taxes. "A necessary evil," as I call the damn things. It's true. I just wish I could see exactly where my money goes .. watch it in transit. I think a lot of people would have less of a problem paying taxes then. Of course, it would take even more money to set up a system like that. Go figure.
I broke down and wrote to Owen tonight. "Hi, how are you, been a year since we met, lots of things have changed" sort of note. I doubt he'll reply, and if he does he'll probably be empty and uncaring.
If I hadn't seen flashes of his caring, I'd think he's always like that. But it's that, "ah, I know better ... " mindset that so frequently gets me in trouble. I guess I think about him now because it has been a year and so much has changed. I am glad for the change. I'm at a peacefully mundane part of my life right now, though it drives me crazy with its monotony. I am learning still, and that is good. My grasp on sanity is still a million times stronger than this time last year. I am me, at least. I am myself.
I wonder if I repeat these things to convince myself of them. I think they're true. I feel it inside, but that little sliver of instability still constantly nibbles at my edges. I hope I am alone when it finally breaks in. I don't want anyone to witness that again.
I've been sad, but I get by. I miss Jared and Chip and Andy and John Orkenbjorken. When I think about it, I miss a lot more than that. At least with John, he's not too far away. Not emotionally or physically or mentally. That's more of a comfort to me than he will ever know. I guess I should tell him.
As for the others. ... I don't know. I will call Chip. Andy is totally beyond my reach. Beyond my shadow. Beyond any piece of me that used to touch him. I replaced the paints he used that weekend at my house. I spent $31.86 (roughly) replacing those tubes.
As for Jared, I wrote him a strange email a night or 3 ago and haven't heard back yet.
The stream must run its course. I'm curious as to where it will finally peter out.
Now, sleep.

10:40 p.m.

Sunday, October 8, 2000
It's time again to look forward while staring into the mirror.
My laptop has been inaccessable for months now. I've not written real poetry in ages. I need to. It's cold and my fingers grow numb, but I'm content in a way I haven't felt in ages.
Finally, I have a job.
Finally, I like school.
Finally, I love my friends.
Finally, I am listening.
So I write. I am accepting of my past, and it's been a year since my first true breakdown, and I am mostly mended.

I can move on.

It's not that I don't have a choice - that's all I've ever had. I know I've made some bad ones, but lately I've just bounced back. Lately I can figure out what's going on before I run too far.
Lately I've been loving, not some figure, but myself.
My life.
I am going somewhere, insignificant as it seems.
Someone took the dream I had created and is living it for me. I am pleased with this. I am happier here than I could have been where she lives now. I am real here. There I would have been following some premade character than I had nothing to do with creating. It was someone elses' dream before it was mine. Thoughts like that are rarely original, and I'm glad things happened to dispell the myth I almost gave into. I am glad I've had this past year for a second chance. I can do things here. I can be me here. I have changed my inner workings.
It's ok if I don't make waves and am not remembered in history books when I die. It's my choice now to live and make small ripples in others' lives.
Small things grow gradually larger, and hopefully I will touch everyone, my goal or not.
The small things I used to grasp so tightly to just aren't as important anymore. Those things that used to sting me. I held onto them anyway, maybe to spite myself. I want that no long.
I seek absolution. I seek myself.
I seek happiness, and slowly creep up on it.
I've written poem upon poem upon prose and stories and sadness, and it just doesn't matter as much anymore. THere are better ways, healthier ways, to go on living, and I seek them now. They are important to me. I want to be healthy and help others find what I'm gradually gathering into myself.
The physical things do not matter. Touch is only affirmation. As much can be said with eyes as with words. I knew this before, but truly feel it now.
I am in love, in general, without any one thing to direct it.
I enjoy this.
This is me.
I am complete, though not final, and will work toward this supreme completion..

I have a chance. I have made my choice.
I am in love.

06:53 p.m.

Tuesday, August 15, 2000
yeah
go here to see older stuff. I just archived this shit.
11:05 p.m.

to do.
comics
sluggy freelance.
goats
diesel sweeties.
red meat.

other stuff
mail
memepool.
the onion.