Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Sneaking German Beer From the Fridge

I want to stop. It can't be healthy. But with every gulp I feel my normal life coming back to me, and I feel like a person again. A person who can think, and sleep and won't cut. Passing this two week barrier is so very hard. Boxing Underwater? I'm doing a pole vault on the carpet of the Indian ocean, and I'm being booed by everyone. I'm having a major hit of depression which a lot like despair, three essays, my best friend's in trouble, and a fat day all rolled into one emotion, kinda like poisoned silk someone had draped over you. You feel like theres spiders crawling under your skin. Actually, there's these conjured spiders everywhere, coming out of nowhere. I have to have arachnophobia... Then I'm quitting cutting and drinking at the same time. I haven't cut since the OD but now everything else, including my sanity is suffering for it and I'm just wondering as I drink my one sweet bottle of beer, despairing between a gay christmas party or a filming thingy, trying to think of excuses for either whether this is all worth it, and if whatever resolve I have left will carry me through and leave me intact and eloquent. I almost wish I believe in God. Almost.

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