September 13, 1997

September 13, 1997 - Later

"We'll we made a promise we swore we'd always remember: No retreat baby, no surrender..."

What's New...

Not that I'm recovered, that's for damn sure. I hate this shit. I hate my brain and I hate depression. I fucking absolutely hate it. Oh shit. Maybe I'll just get addicted to laxatives.

That I'm sitting here writing a follow-on entry for this journal. That I'm admitting that I'm fucked right now, and that I may be even more fucked up than I admit here. That's fucked up isn't it? Because even I can't trust myself when I get this way.

I got Enya Watermark on. Probably not the smartest thing I could have playing right now. I used to sit and listen for hours when my marriage was breaking up, and when I was depressed. At least it isn't the Indigo Girls. If I listen to them depressed I just get worse. So, I'm sitting here chain-eating Riesen™ chocolate candies. They are really good but they contain Sorbitol™, which is a laxative, so I'm screwed. Hello Mr. Toilet Bowl.

I was going to call someone to talk this over with but I've run out of tolerance for people right now. I also don't want anyone in my affairs right now. I don't want to answer questions, I don't want to hear anything but the sound of my fingers hitting the keys. I need some caffeine and some smokes. Be right back...gotta start a pot up.

No time lag for you, about 20 minutes subjective time. We got the rain again. How nice. I emptied the dishwashwer of clean dishes. They'd been resting there for about 3 days since I did dishes. I did however do my clothes today and they are all hanging up nicely thank you. Course the clothes I dried will still be in the drier 3 days from now, but at least their clean right? Got the Yuban™ on and I'm looking forward to a nice coffee rush soon. Bean through a pack of smokes today and probably more before I'm finished here. Not good Toto. Shit, all we need now is a plague of Locusts. Honey dear?

As I cleaned the kitchen (read: put away clean dishes and put dirty ones back in) I realized I dearly missed Colette and that I ache for her. I want her back but I wanted her faithful and healthy. Sorry Charlie. You can't always get what you want. Hell, I even thought about calling her. I'm just lonely.

The coffee is brewing. No, it was already brewed. Got me a cup. At 10:15P PST I got a fresh cup of coffee. What is that?

What's On My Mind

That I can lie to myself and to this page with such ease. That I can lie to those that I know read this page and that I'm better than I am. Maybe I AM better than I feel, but right now I feel like shit , and I'm isolating, and I want to crawl into bed and never see the light again.

Suicide. I fucking hate it. I can't type this strongly enough. I hate the fucking thought of it. I hate it that it comes unbidden into my mind like a thief in the night. That my brain warps me this way, and that this is what I have in the end. I can fight, but I will always have this motherfucker lurking back there ready to zap my ass when I'm not looking. Tracy Thompson wrote The Beast. She describes it as something that is lurking behind her. I know well that thing. It lives on. Shit piss fuck damn hell motherfucker and kiss my ass I hate this feeling!!!!!!!!!!! DAMN!!!!! I wish I could put this behind me for the rest of my life but I know I can't. I have to live with this mental shit the rest of my fucking life. Times like this make me want to vomit.

Before you call the Police on me. I'm not going to kill myself. I just hate it that this thing has returned on me, and that I have to go back to shrinko next week and tell him I lied to him, or wanted to think I was better than I was; and that I am worse than I thought. Fuck this.

Shrink asked me if I thought that the change of seasons was having an affect on me. I said I had no way of knowing cause I was always depressed. I think they do. I think the lack of sunlight is zapping me. I think also that the lonliness of not having Colette around is also driving me crazy. I'm so glad she is in another part of the state. I have the feeling that if she were close by I'd ask her to come back, cause at this point, anything is better than being alone and feeling crappy. I of course know that in two days I'd feel worse, but that's the sick part isn't it?

I'm absolutely beside myself. Just tried to take a break at The Fray and it was awful. Too much cute HTML. I tried to sleep today but I had left the windows open (55°), with the fan blowing on me and I was too damn cold to sleep. That I was attempting to sleep after about 12 hours of sleep earlier is sign enough.

I haven't gotten much mail today and I'm bummed. I was getting lots and now...zip. That is depressing. At least it was a window out. Now all I have are CD's I've heard a zillion times before and my git's which I'm sick of playing. And this thing. This box into which I stare for hours and type and do nothing. Fuck.

Now I have Pink Floyd The Final Cut on. Great. Listening to Roger Waters' depressed vocalizing about the past and how fucked up things are/were. Got a knack for picking the best of the best right now. And hold on to the dream.

I'm lost.

Love folks.

Be Joyous!

my brain and get it to talk to you. It won't talk to me....Motherf*****r that it is....

<Some Campbell's Chunky Chicken Soup™, some Effexor™, some Depakote™, and a Vitamin, and now some coffee>

"Like soldiers on a winters night, with a vow to defend: no retreat baby, no surrender."

Copyright ©1996, 1997 A.T.Green. All Rights Reserved.