Right now it feels like my head is spinning in six different directions. It's time for me to play another one of my disappearing games. Just for a little while... or until the panic feeling squeezing at my heart goes away.

I'm not sure how I feel about this, but the fact that I'm writing again is encouraging. Feel free to comment. In my opinion though, this isn't finished...

It was a time after the end, when the ash had settled. There was no one left who remembered seeing the explosion take place. The world had turned over its soil and the sun shown down hot on all that was left. Black clouds coated the sky and the rain fell. It filled in the lakes and rivers and soaked back down into the new soil. From the ash and wreckage, life began to sprout. Grass and budding trees settled among ruins of concrete and metal, weaving a new jungle on the abandoned other half.

Years went by and the thick vegetation cleansed away all pollution. Trees grew taller and flowers bloomed. Birds nested in places above while rabbits burrowed in fields. Except for what lay of the past civilization, a busted foundation of a marketplace or melted over stub of a streetlight, all of humanity had been erased from this place.

Slow were the people to reenter their old territory. They stepped softly as if afraid of sinking, unknowing of what lay around corners. This was no longer home to them. Men and women stood around with eyes closed and envisioned things as they used to be: shopping malls, houses, the roadways and gas stations. They kicked at blocks of cement, displaced, and left only to come back with axes and diesel engine wrecking machines. Black clouds of smoke filled the air.

In what had been destroyed in moments, replaced anew over years, it took only weeks to restore. Trees were cut, houses rebuilt, and soon fresh asphalt was laid and the streets lined with new cars. Stores opened and more people came, eager to join in with the promised new start of the city. They rebuilt the factories and black clouds filled the air. Everyone was happy.

I have decided that I am going to regularly be drinking wine for a while, at least until I can go back to the fun stuff... but maybe even then. We'll see. Right now it's all I've found that helps me make the shit stop, including my shaky hands. I'm a sick fuck. Didn't you know?

I dedicate this glass to breast cancer. Cheers.

I heart Chicago! Words don't do it justice. It's a wonderful, magical city (see even that didn't really do it...).

My weak suburbanized legs did some walking today among the lovely tall buildings. I saw overwhelming art and awesome friends. So much that I have missed and it all left me feeling rejuvenate and as close to inspired as I have been in weeks... and completely exhausted.

Tonight is about to end with a shivering cigarette that is following a (one of my favorite things) midnight bubble bath where I completely lost track of time reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Sabina is my new hero.

In minutes I will collapse in my bed and hopefully dream of something better than being eaten by sharks.

Oh man! I was throwing rocks tonight! Shattering glass and cracking skulls!

Not really. Really I was bowling, and bowling well. Most impressive I beat my own personal high score. AND! I actually beat my fellow bowlers. It was something I never thought possible! So yay!

Yay for me!

Glass half empty and full of tears.

This weekend has been a blur of good and bad. Lots of good times mixed with multiple awkward shitty moments. As I mentioned before I, again, had way to many moments of whispering after breaths. Did you catch any? I'm sorry we don't talk anymore. I hate that feeling most of all, that I feel like I can't talk to you. Almost a fate worse than death, really...

I don't even think the new shoes helped me to get through that job interview. I won't be surprised to find out that I didn't get it and I'll be back at square one of the whole life process. It would be just my luck (as in I don't have any).

Are you aware of the afterthoughts in conversations, the phrases whispered in last breaths that no one ever says aloud? If you've talked to me in the past few days you might have been able to hear one or two.

Every impulse that I have comes to me with conflict, which makes me tired all the time. I hate to say it but without drugs in my life- the sure way to shut off my brain- I'm finding my days longer and all in all progressively crappier. I've had a headache for about a week now...

Last night I drove for an hour and a half- just driving... I needed to feel something other than the claustrophobia that I feel when stuck in this room, alone, for days on end. I needed to stretch my legs on open road and remind myself that there are places where the sky looks different and the night can be kinder. And I realized something- or rather admitted something to myself. My life is moving miles away from where I had always wanted and intended to end up. And it sucks. It sucks that I'm going to an interview tomorrow in McHenry. It doesn't suck that I might have a job and working with Margot wouldn't be bad by any means, but it does suck to find myself pulling farther and farther away from Chicago. I miss my city.

I don't want to work in McHenry. Maybe they won't hire me anyway. Maybe I should never have left therapy. Maybe I just need a new therapist- since I seem to be so short on friends that I can actually bring myself to talk to.

This post is sloppy but so is my thought process lately. And for that I'm sorry. I wish I could find better words to tell you how... or that I...

I'm so sorry.

When it seems like every other person in my family is dying...

I'm slowly beginning to feel more accepting of my fate in this life. Whenever I close my eyes and think hard about where I might end up in 5 years or more, it doesn't exactly look appealing. Tolerable. My future looks to me to be bordering on suicidal insanity, but never actually crossing that line. The images in my head do change from day to day, but never once have I ever glimpsed anything more than heartache, solitude, or a series of mornings waking up next to a toilet.

And I can rationalize the good out of those things! At least I had the opportunity to love and lose. At least I made it out of my parents' house. At least I didn't wake up with my face in the toilet. Those are positive things, right? Some of them haven't yet come to pass, but I'm waiting and hopeful that they will eventually.

I remember when I used to have dreams. I can't help but laugh at how naive I used to be. Nothing remarkable will ever happen to me. I've always known that to be true, deep down. It's time I came to terms with it.

In five years:

*I will be living alone, without a significant other.
*I will be well on my way to having a life threatening disease (cancer most likely).
*I will be not writing anymore, having finally realized it to be a waste of my time.

Those aren't anything like resolutions, my friends. Just predictions that I feel that I can count on coming true. Glass half empty, damn right.

I feel like I'm Studying Stones lately, too much. Like I've been dragging my feet and clawing my way for so long that my lungs are filled to the brim with gravel, dirt and dust. Every now and then I'm able to cough something up, usually always leaving me feeling nervous. These days I have a constant feeling that I may explode. I have visions of my future filled with horrible sights and pains that I can't shake, even in sleep. And the worst of it is that I so wish to just let it out and scream but I don't think that even my ears could take it this time. You don't understand, do you?

Every day is a struggle to me. Every waking moment I suffer when left to my own thoughts, which is almost always. Today has already been too long and I've spent most of it pacing laps around the couch in my living room. I can't keep a steady beat. I think I'm mentally preparing myself to be left again, and again probably. I'm too scary for anyone to love- and or I am unlovable. yah.

If something inside me doesn't change very soon, you won't be hearing a word from me any longer. I wish I could say that I was kidding. It's just that it would be lovely to go one day without a panic attack. My high points usually revolve around watching water go down the drain in the shower. I need to find a way to forget. I need to find a way not to let myself think about this and that and everything all too much like I do.

This is me, reaching out to no one. The only one I have left is the hollow reflection in the mirror, and she scares me.