May 21, 2002 :: 10:12 a.m.
the many faces of psychosis
I went jogging. I feel a little better now, but sweating can only do so much to relieve a sense of numbing dread.
I don't know what's happening to me. I never used to be like this. I get so upset and no one can make it any better, because I can't tell them why. I can't tell them because I shouldn't be upset to begin with. Telling them why would be like airing the dirty laundry of my paranoia and insecurity and irrationality to all to see. Sometimes it just seems easier to use those proverbial bed sheets to wipe up the tears.
I have to go pack stuff for the drive. I wish I could stay home. Lay in bed and cry and wait for sleep. Right now the unfeeling void of unconsciousness is more appealing than a million Rufus concerts.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005