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.