Thursday, January 26, 2006 // 11:28 PM

i'm feeling excessively neurotic, i'm feeling like i'm on the brink of some sort of disease, i think this has something to do with my skipping a dosage of antiobiotics, i think i'm going to wolf painkillers by the dozen, from now on. i used to have this huge thing against painkillers, i'd go to the doctor and ask for a whole handful, then i'd bring it home and dump it all on this bottle on my table, with a million other pills from a million other occasion. chalk it up, one more strange habit, i collect pills yes i do. i'm hoping by tomorrow i won't need the damn things anymore, and so i'll pop all the yellows and the blues and the pinks into my bottle with the rest of my collection, my darlings, my precccious. help i'm too neurotic to function.

i've also dug out catcher in the rye and i'm reading it again. holden makes me sad, feel sad, and a little lost. i won't promise you have no part in my strange feeling, right now, mister, mister jd salinger. i've decided to start reading again, reading for real, not just reading comics, i have a lot of books on my shelf that i'd like to go through. though i think i shall buy myself a comic for my birthday, just to make my lonesome self a little bit happier.

i, i have never let myself go on you. because i feel like nobody knows (not their fault), or could begin to understand. it is different over the computer when i'm getting drunk (cue kevin), you have no idea how lost i am, with myself. i'm unclean a libertine and everytime you vent your spleen i seem to lose the power of speech, you're slipping slowly from my reach you grow me like an evergreen you've never seen the lonely me at all. i don't think i'd allow myself to go crazy on you because i think, i really do think. you might put a stop to me, or aggravate me, with your dumbfounded audience.

i'm sick of self, things feel like an endless charade. sinead o conner was playing in the car and really all i'd wanted to do was just turn up the volume to about thirty and let rip. i've stopped collecting self-destructive music, but there is some, i chance upon, that i want to curl up into, when the time is right. i'm trying to find things that belong to me, me, me. me away from you, me away from the people pleasing. man it's taken me a long time to come to terms with this, about myself, and really all it leaves with is the pissed-off-ness, of never knowing, of having done something completely and utterly pointless, for reasons i can't even begin to remember. what the whatever, larh, i just want to leave it all behind. jump shit, walk the heck out of here.

i want to walk out of my own skin, find a version 2.0, with improved ventilation, a more opaque kind of colouring. faith once said, on analysis of my angel-mortal letters alone, that i was too close to the surface. neurotic, A person prone to excessive anxiety and emotional upset. you know, i know this is not norm, for me, at least the me of late, i'd like to believe. but jo, with his stop pretending to be normal, anthony, with his the moment i saw you i knew you weren't normal. geez. you screw with my mind and i don't even know if i'm wrong, if you're right.

da said, why are you so antisocial about school. that was a statement, not some sort of paternal inquiry. or maybe this is the way you do it, military man, but either way it goes. it cracks me up, the idea of you telling me this, it's classic helloooooo self awareness, it's like marvin telling me to stop mopeing.

maybe it's because i'm feeling shitty now, that i'm being so absolutely hopeless. hello. what do other people do when they feel weird, exactly?