NO

i am not where i want to be. i repeatedly wake up and wonder what's going on with my life. i don't like it. i am in stasis. i feel restless. and i continually hurt myself and those i love. by making horribly wrong decisions that an infant would know better than to make.

i'm off to write a story. i feel lonely. i am lonely. i am alone. froufrou is pretty great stuff. and elliott smith, as always, is a thing of beauty.

i am unhappy.

i am afraid to be anything else. it all seems too terrifying and hard.

apparently, i've become a wuss.

being fearless just doesn't seem worth it anymore.

was i really fearless once? did i once actually at least TRY to live?

hardly seems real anymore.

nothing seems real, really. i'm living this semblence of a life, that's all disjointed and ridiculous, like a dream that clearly has import, but is all jumbled together and so hard to pick apart, so you just let it dissolve with the daylight.

i am an alcoholic. i am out of control when i drink. i don't watch how much i drink. i drink alone, to get completely shit-faced. i drink so i have an excuse to not process things, and piss my life away.

all because i'm unhappy. or i'm unhappy because i do these things.

its all part and parcel of the same thing.

i feel so broken now. i feel like its not safe for me to even put myself into anyone's life. i'm just dangerous, and pain in a deceptive package.

its terrifying to know that i need to cry, but to not be willing to let myself. look, i'm a man after all. i just feel so ugly when i cry; out of control, blubbering, weak, sniffly and snotty, driven to desperation. but i suppose i'm pretty desperate at the present moment. and its so horrile to know that its all waiting just below the surface, and wondering what it is that will set me off. if you see a tall man in navy blue walking down the street and bawling, its probably me. be warned.

i think i'm done here, because the last thing i feel like i deserve right now is a pity party, and yet, i can't just stop existing. though it doesn't seem like such a bad idea. i can't forsee things getting too much better. but then, that's just me throwing that pity party. things always get better. but i want to get out of here. i can't stand being at home anymore. there's no space here. i'm being stifled and crushed. i need out. i need to have somewhere to run to.

plans formed in desperation are usually not good to follow through on.

i wish for something. i wish i can find the strength to pull myself together and get out of here. before i end up killing myself.

there's a documentary about penguins in theaters right now. i really want to see it. its narrated by morgan freeman, and its a half-hour of nothing but penguins. what could be better?

i think its been eighteen years since i've danced. why do i not listen to music enough? all music is sacred. kurt vonnegut said so. and i think i can trust him on this one.

i need some guidance. i always do. but i don't know who to ask or where to look.

the end.