17 June 2000

"Oh, I can't take another heartache. Though you say you're my friend, I'm at my wits end. You say our love is bonafide, but that don't coincide with the things that you do and when I ask you to be nice you say: You gotta be cruel to be kind." ~Letters to Cleo

I hate this place. I hate these people. I'm sick of taking their abuse and I'm sick of not being respected and I'm sick of being used.

How do I always end up in these situations? Why can't I ever have normal friends?

I hate my hair and my shape and my life and my insecurities.

And I hate that I'm crying and I hate this weakness and I hate that it shows.

I want to scream and thrash and pull my hair and break things and smash things.

My world is once again slipping into that blackness; that void where I start to see the world how it really is and my isolation grows.

And this all goes back to James. James let my demons out. Before they were under control. Now they roam free. Now and then I feel like I have recaptured them but something always goes wrong and they break free.

I'm sick of all this shit. I'm sick of all of it and right now I really need James but right now I also really hate James. Why did he do this to me? Why did he enter my world to give me new vision; to give me wings to fly only to shatter me and bruise me and rip my wings away? I'm sick of all of this.

I hate this ugly darkness and I hate who I am.