Can't sleep. Feeling nervous. Can't sleep. It's too fucking hot in my room despite the air conditioning. Can't sleep. Feeling anxious. Can't sleep. Want to scream. Can't sleep. Want to cry. Can't sleep. Can't sleep. Can't sleep.

When will my brain recognize the difference between rational thoughts and my own psychotic ramblings? The two sides of my brain are constantly fighting each other these days. It's like if I don't shut myself down by way of drugs or alcohol or just the right company to keep my mind occupied then it all goes to shit. It's tiresome and pathetic and making me feel bad in ways I'm tired of trying to explain. I'm sorry for the never ending flow of bullshit I'm always posting about but unfortunately that's just how shitty my life is.

I'm working on another story. I wrote five pages today which makes the grand total at a whooping 12 pages. Cheers. It's not done yet. It's all about this girl who gets dumped by this guy suddenly and she never could figure out why he left her. But they meet at this diner one morning and shit happens. She shrinks, climbs into his pocket. That's about as far as I got. Feel free to comment with suggestions for an ending with that vague description of what it's really about.

I've watched 2 movies from start to finish. Smoked two cigarettes. Ate one bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats. I got up and played with my hair for a little while. I laid on my stomach and let my head fall over the side and all the blood rushed to my head for a while. I recommend that one- and the Mini Wheats (tasty). Do you think anyone would notice if I went outside for another smoke and didn't put pants on? It is 3:34am... hmmm. I guess I'll find out.

remember when i told you about how they took the shitty car that i was driving away? i've been driving my mom's old VW. It died today in a pile of steam and is to be towed to the car hospital and who knows how long before i get it back. this offically sucks. i hate cars. why can't i just move into the city and live off public transportation like i want to. i've never wanted a car. they cause me nothing but trouble. they eat money. they ruin the environment. but at the same time...

driving = freedom (sometimes) and driving fast = happy

This nervous traveler who never gets anywhere is actually going someplace... and on a plane too! I'm headed to New Orleans and I'll be back on Monday night. Cheers!

I am a failure of a human being, incapable of interacting with the rest of the species. Part of me feels like it's completely my fault- every time. It has to be. Let's look at the facts here, every time the only constant in every situation... is me. But then there's this voice inside my head telling me how that's wrong- that I feel the way I feel for a reason. It can't all be completely my fault! Whether I'm sensitive or whatever adjective you choose, isn't my fault. People so close to me should know better by now. And thus I begin to hate myself for all my faults. That's when the ping pong game of self loathing starts and all the rest is history.

I just don't understand why I always end up being surrounded with negative, combative situations. How can I help but think it's all me. Every person on this earth, on a certain level with me, argues with me, calls me names, assumes that I'm pissed off all the time (especially when I'm not). I'm at a loss here. How can someone tell me that I'm being mean when I'm not even speaking? How can someone not understand that my response isn't going to be all that happy when you ask me the same things week after week? Don't you get it by now? Should I write it down for you- OH WAIT! I already did that, yet you ask me again and again and do you guess and just get it all wrong or do you honestly believe what you say to me about my life is true. It's really really REALLY hard to live life around people who don't have a fucking clue who you are. I'm not that difficult to figure out- and if I am so be it. Just leave me the fuck alone. Don't come to me and back me into a corner and then make me feel bad when it all goes to shit.

It's all my fault. I know. It always is, always has been.