// yeah. (me in hell)
| 10/17/2003 - 12:55 a.m. |

i think i wrote about 1/2 an entry the other night/morning/whatever.
never finished it.
not sure at the moment where i even copied/saved it to.
doesn't much matter.
i was just whining about whatever it was i was whining about then.
and i'm just as miserable now.
my sleeping remains WACK.
i feel like all kinds of SHIT physically.
my brain & emotional state are even more *especially* FUCKED up than usual.
and my eating is KILL-ME-NOW-PLEASE.

and if i'm not avoiding verbalness with a ferocious intensity, i have no capacity for it anyway.

except for an email-to-C. episode.
blahhhhhhhhhhh.



Thu, Oct 16, 11:10pm
just my weekly email to say...that i don't really have anything to say.
and nor do you i gather.

just :(
i miss...well, i pretty much miss _everything_ that i once knew.
there was a time when i would say 'i miss you' to _you_ and it only meant missing physically seeing you.
and now...**a whole list of other 'i miss's' written and erased**...
--i miss when the idea that i might burst into tears of shame every time i started to write to you would have seemed utterly absurd--

the fact is that i have so so SO much to say.
but no matter what it just feels _wrong_.

when there even are practical or factual things to report, doing nothing but that feels completely fake and empty.
and yet anything else feels too dangerous.
but i get so.freaking.scared going very long without saying *anything*...

because i often wonder...how long it would take not hearing from me before you even noticed.
...before you started to worry.
...before *you* would write *me* on your own.

the answer to the last at least i have all too good an idea about...

i don't know why really,
when it seems that i so easily and carelessly just let go of every other once-so-very-important thing and person and dream in my life,
that i remain so practically-begging-on-my-knees and just-not-getting-the-hint desperate to keep even the illusion of you in it.
i don't what it is i want (anymore), or what the hell i'm trying to say--just that the only deep-down-in-my-gut knowing/feeling/need i still have any awareness of, the only sense of drive i experience in terms of hanging on to anything at all, is somehow wrapped up in all of 'this'


...and fuck, f*, f*. i know i say this a whole lot too, but i SO did not intend for this email to go this way when i started.
was just supposed to be the first line or two maybe, a 'hope you're taking care of yourself' or 'have a nice weekend' perhaps, and that was it.

and then, bam, the bursting into tears thing happened.
and continued.
and somewhere between all the sobs-and-snot all these fragments of thoughts managed to sneak their way onto the screen.

it really doesn't feel ok to send.
but nothing ever does anymore.
it's not everything.
it's still not totally uncensored either.
right now, i read back over it and want to edit and explain and explain my explanations and i don't want you to think i mean this or i'm trying to do that...
but then there will be nothing 'real' left of whatever there is there now.
it just is what it is.


--me



double the wacked-shit-fucked-kill-me-now-please.