i never thought you'd be a junkie because heroin is so passe.
Went to Six Flags with Holly and Becca yesterday. It was alright. I felt like a kid again, slightly. At the same time I felt extremely old, cut off from the past, cut off from whatever once was. I wasn't even that happy then, but I suppose thinking about my past makes me sad because of all the lost opportunity. So much blown. I'm still blowing things. Failure has remained constant.
This next year is going to be horrible if I pay attention to it. I want it to go by quickly. I don't want to make new friends or get involved in lots of new things. I just want to excel in my studies, fulfill my currently held duties in the various offices and concentrate on myself. I always hate writing in this thing. And I do it so infrequently. It's a record of failure. Current entries are identical to entries in old journals as far back as two years ago. Miserable failure. A train track of it.
Tomorrow is Sunday. I'm completely broke until Thursday. I don't know how I am going to get to work all week. My car has no gas. I have no health insurance. I haven't registered my classes yet. Deja needs a job. Beth is a complete moron. Rhiannon is phony, flakey and annoying. My mother is the same as usual: something I have to endure without a break.
Can't read what I want to read. Can't absorb anything. The mind is metal plate. I am constantly confused. I feel like Charlie, my intellect fading to nothing. Soon all that will be for me is maintenance.
"This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary."
This next year is going to be horrible if I pay attention to it. I want it to go by quickly. I don't want to make new friends or get involved in lots of new things. I just want to excel in my studies, fulfill my currently held duties in the various offices and concentrate on myself. I always hate writing in this thing. And I do it so infrequently. It's a record of failure. Current entries are identical to entries in old journals as far back as two years ago. Miserable failure. A train track of it.
Tomorrow is Sunday. I'm completely broke until Thursday. I don't know how I am going to get to work all week. My car has no gas. I have no health insurance. I haven't registered my classes yet. Deja needs a job. Beth is a complete moron. Rhiannon is phony, flakey and annoying. My mother is the same as usual: something I have to endure without a break.
Can't read what I want to read. Can't absorb anything. The mind is metal plate. I am constantly confused. I feel like Charlie, my intellect fading to nothing. Soon all that will be for me is maintenance.
"This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary."