I wonder what the hell is going on inside my head sometimes. And I just watched Hannibal. Mmm brains.

My mother came over. I sat idly on the sofa listening to her babble, half-hearing a word here and there for 30 minutes or so.

Today's Monday, ne? Ugh... so, I work at 6am tomorrow. I think I'll put on my blank face for a while, say as few words as possible, and slink away whenever the chance arises. Not unlike more normal behavior, really.

Mmmyep. I should take a shower and bury my head under a pillow. This day has been far too long. Too anything and everything. I thought writing would relieve some of the tension, and maybe it has. I can't tell. Everything's foggy.

7:26 p.m.

currently: too lazy to put in a picture

It's a small pleasure to contradict myself.

I feel calmer now, but I'm still not exactly right in the head. I tackled one of my cats and got a sufficient "mewph" from it. He looked at me with this "get a man" expression on his face. Silly cat.

"Come on," you say, "Get away"

Squeak.

Days like this... when I just lose a lil' bit of my mind, there's nothing I can really do but sleep it off. I did manage to take a small nap.

Maybe working a lot this week will deter this line of thinking.

Hey, look, the destructive romantic goes self-destruct mode. And this is where I lay down a bunch of BS about not caring, not loving, blah blah blah.

Set myself up for a big failure this time, eh? What happens to me is inconsequential. It's you I'm worried about. I wouldn't deserve forgiveness, methinks. And that's okay, too. I'm not long for this world. 'Least, that's what my organs tell me.

1:48 p.m.

currently: harvest my fucking uterus and sell it on e-bay

*listening to New Order, Get Ready*

*violent mood swing in 5...4...3...2...*

Where the fuck is my last cigarette? I'm cramping like a son of a bitch and despise the world!

Just six more months. Six more months, you fuck! As if I even could try....... *sob* WEEE LOOK FYX MAKES NO SENSE.

we could worship pagan idols there together, you and me

I NEED A FUCKING NAP. Ah, to curl up in a fetal position on my floor and burst.

When I get to thinking about normal American life or life in general, even in passing, I get depressed. What is this bullshit we call living?

I'm trembling. What the hell is wrong with me?

I'm ill. That has to be it. I'm ill in mind and body. I'm gagging on force-fed lies.

If I'm going to have a breakdown, can I do it now and get it over with?

Vicious sobs echo off the walls.

11:15 a.m.

currently: aksghalh

*listening to Apop, Harmonizer*

I know I'm lost
Please let me suffer in silence
I've said enough
Please help me hide from the ghost from my past for a while

Ya know what I said yesterday about wanting to be the healer, etc. etc? Well, FUCK THAT.

I'm wandering back into the woods. Or I'm hiding safely behind a wall, because people are too much to handle.

I'm considering legally changing my name. And moving. I could just pick up and leave at any time. A sort of self-witness protection program, if you will. I get goosebumps just thinking about it. Running the fuck away from this life.

Back in the day, when I decided that I didn't want to fit into society's little pigeon hole, I knew that my choice was right for me. And then things got complicated, and I lost sight of what I wanted. Now, I think it's becoming clear again. I want to be alone. I need self-actualization in a bad way. If deafening myself to my own heart will aid in this process, then it must be.

I am a broken person. I've completely lost my ability to trust anyone. I've tried to regain it, regain something that would allow me to believe people... the struggle hasn't seemed worth it.

A snake has uncoiled in my head. As an Aerosmith song once said, I feel like I'm "dancing on a landmine."

I'll admit, I am terrified of people, sometimes. But I think this springs from being unable to accept them as genuine. Things which seem important and neccessary to them are petty and meaningless to me.

I'm down to one cigarette. SHITE.

I'm tired of meeting a person as the person they project on the surface--and then never knowing them as more. There's more to us than our jobs. OH FUCK. Fight Club and Trainspotting dialog just started running through my head. You are not your fucking job.

Why do I suddenly feel like crying? Oh, yeah... female horomones. Almost forgot.

Fuck is my word of the day.

Does this cut too deeply? Am I exposing a nerve? Well, it's too late to shut me up once I've started.

If I sit still for too long, I begin to question what is real and if I really am who I think I am. Like fever-dreaming without the fever.

This is not what I am here for. I am not here to make things harder than they should be. I should really submerge myself in some deep water. Only in the water do I feel at home. Like a South American mythic dolphin that walks the earth with red hair.

I am sick and confused
I've got no peace of mind

I feel like I'm falling
drifting away
spinning
floating
further away

I am now so bored and willing to distract myself from this line of thinking that I am going to motograndprix.com to look up pictures of a coworker that races bikes.