Entry 000070; 12.09.01

Waking in the middle of the day to some harsh, jeerinng laughter. Yanked from a beautiful sleep in which you are not required to think; to remember. So thankful, so greatful that you can't remember your dreams from last night, because you know they must have been horrible. How late did you stay up last night, afraid to sleep and afraid to start the nightmares?

Spending as much time as possible reading, staring at walls, doing whatever it takes to keep yourself from thinking.

Three o'clock and finally you are forced to venture from your cave, driven by hunger. Outside is not where I want to go. Outside I will be forced to interact. More words sucking energy out of me. More control.

Dirty dishes. Always dirty dishes. You didn't dirty then, but to eat you need to clean them. Images of just throwing those goddamn dirty glass things onto the floor, letting them shatter. Let THEM clean that up. Let THEM clean up after me. Dirty wrappers left on the living room table. Old, stagnant milk growing in cups on the counter. Unfolded cardboard left in the recycling bins, knowing full well they won't take it if they aren't in paper bags, leaving them there for me to put away. Imaginging them being forced to walk over broken shards of glass, dirty, filthy shards of glass. And I can just stay in my room and let THEM deal with it. Filthy, inconsiderate, lazy animals.

"That's not an exuse." He said to me, for being the way I am. Well what the fuck does he know? What the hell does he think he knows about me? He doesn't know anything about me, because he never cared to look and think about it. Maybe the cosmic shit of things will order everything out, and he'll never find someone better than me. We can only hope. And "not an excuse" my ass. I know what I am like and I know who I am, and this is not me.

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