There's not enough inside to fuel a white hot rage. Has subsided to a dull seething - the embers not even glowing enough to warm me. Cold. Engulfing despair is closing in. Soon no light will remain and my heart will once more be engulfed in darkness. Better than I deserve. Self absorbed wanker. Wallowing in self pity. Pity the sadness. The picture I took this week shows a hint of a smile. Just goes to show I'm only happy when I'm sad. I must enjoy fucking my life up. Twisted. At least my conscious and sub-conscious mind are in agreement - they both hate me. Trains are fucked up, I have no coffee. This sucks.
Monday 6 December 1999
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