Cannot think straight. Have slept for most of the day. Was I tired or just lazy? I don't know. Anything I say is going to be bollocks. I am going to put myself down or go into denial again - like I did last week. I am nothing. Spinning inside. All the wrong reasons. Stabbing Westward throbs in the background. Vision of the future. Is the anticipation better than the knowing? At least at the moment there is a chance - if the wave function is collapsed it is either/or - now there is some of both. Balancing act. Electricity. Something. A handful of fragmented memories. So powerful that they are almost tangible. God I wish I was less confused. More confident. Less paranoid. More other. Less me. Wishing again - helps nothing. An it harm none, do what thou wilt. Quiet. Lonely. Calm. There are no stars out tonight. Occasional fireworks. Nothing spectacular. The candle burns no longer. The room is cool - no longer cold. It is never the right temperature for long in here - too cold with the window open - too hot with it closed. If I didn't have so much crap in here I could probably get to the radiator to turn it down. I wish I could chat. I've never been comfortable doing it - but the idea of it appeals. To be able to let out these things to someone - rather than just pouring them onto this page. Can't do it though - I end up just sitting in the corner brooding. My thing. It's what I do. I'm the outsider. The loner. Take my scars. Take my life. Goodbye. Still wondering how I cut my arm. It itches. I need to do something to pass the time other than this - something that will just erase a period of my life - sweet oblivion calls me into her arms. Time to play a game. Not feeling sociable, so not EverQuest. SS2 or GTA2 - I think SS2 first - not until the music stops though - won't be able to hear the FX in the game with music this loud - and I can't turn this CD down - it wouldn't be right. "Do you think I'll still be lonely, God I pray that I'm less lonely When I'm dead." I hope Mum's Celine Dion CD has finished. She was playing it really loud earlier - and Celine Dion is one of my irrational hates - I hate her music with a vengeance. Golden apples from the Goddess. Nothing new. Recycled. Same old shit.
Saturday, 6 November 1999
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