2003-02-21 - 9:00 p.m.
these so-called vacations will soon be my deathi am giddy. my family has left the premises and i am taking full advantage of the opportunity it affords to indulge some of my more obscure interests. i am, at the moment, listening to an eighties compilation which has come to rest upon "living on a prayer" at the same time i am watching room with a view and typing here... ha ha. all these forbidden pleasures at the same time...
i'm so sick from the drink i need home for a rest
this is insert, i know, because this entry is actually about a month old. but, i'm trying to be honest here. don't ask me why; i'm not even sure if i will ever tell anyone that this exists. which of course raises the question, why do it at all? well, i suppose for the same reason one might go to the arboritum in at 3 am and announce to the darkness and the turtles the offenses of a world gone wrong. there is a little bit of danger involved, one could be overheard. and while, it could simply be a delt, waking himself (and his date) from a narcotically induced stupor to listen to your diatribe, it could also be someone else, and they might understand. so there you are.
(journal entry 1.12.03)
oh God, the misery of pedestrian depression. how insulting to one's ego it is to be reduced to tears and have nothing to offer in defense but damned cliches. i am, as it is quite obvious, depressed. and really, it hasn't been this bad since i was battling the early teenaged demons we lovingly coddle by calling them "hormones." i haven't the foggiest idea what is responsible for this episode. or rather these episodes. because this is not the first. and that is inaccurate - i do have some hunches as to the sources of much of this, mostly arrived at by some simple math. about 3 years ago i gave my heart to an asshole, masochistically offering my heart as an emotional scapegoat to his vampiric soul, the result of which was my personal metamorphosis into a quivering, neurotic, bundle of infantile insecurities. then the love of my life stalked me, embarrassing me and making my brokenness public. then i got fucked over by my friends, all of them, the highlight of which was a. self-righteous and pristine pronunciation of my general depravity. then i came home, to what should have been a place to hide and nurse my wounds, and instead i have to carry the weight of a family on the brink of becoming a contemporary american statistic. parents who are pillars of the community, examples to young couples everywhere, in a relationship that i would rather sell myself into slavery than willingly submit to.
i need to get out of here.
