2003-05-11 - 11:22 p.m.

this pressure inside my chest can only be described as constricting. im having trouble breathing. vivid memories puncture my train of thought. and all because dealing with my problems is so much harder than whatever the fuck i do with them now.

i havent written. i havent called anyone or gone anywhere. ive been living in this half here-half not state of mind. i can see their mouths moving and hear the noise coming from, but i do not comprehend.

im tired of being tired, but i cant wait to go to bed. i get so angry with myself because i dont know what the fuck i am doing anymore.

i sit here for hours looking at my lap and peeling whatever nailpolish is left from my fingers.

im not sure where i was going with this. or if there was any point. and i cant remember what i was going to say.

im going to attempt to read some comic books, at least then, there will be no room for other thoughts.