September 30, 2002 @ 6:39 am
weird. i'm a fucking space case right now.

it's now six forty, and i'm much more awake than the last entry. i'm supposed to be up in an hour, so i won't even bother laying down. actually, i might, because it's cold out here. my head is still swimming, but not as bad as before. i still shake. that hasn't gotten better, so my fingers have gotten more cut up.

jeff buckley's last goodbye just came on. fuck. and geoff just im'ed me. and no, i didn't sleep at all.

this is weird.

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September 30, 2002 @ 4:39 am
aldkjgafdsgaghpaeoriug

i'm not even looking at the screen. i'm going to hit done without readin this over again. i've four thirty now. somehow i'm stil up and i am suffering for what i did earlier. the caffiene in my system is wreaking havoc on everything. my stomach hurts and hmy hands are still shaking, and i hope i am conscious tomorrow morning when it comes time for school tmorrow morning. because i'm going to be a fucking wreck. an i mean that in the worst of ways.

why am i so fucking stupid. i mean, seriously. what the fuck is my problem.

i think im going to be sick.

i passed out earlierm and woke up on the floor. hmmm. not good. listening to parabola. i miss being held. i need to be held right now.

my arms and legs are shaking. all of me is shaking. i just need to calm down that's all. my eyes are closed. and it is such a strange feeling to be typing with my eyes closed. i hope im doing alright, i hppe you guys can read this.

maybe i shouldn't have my eyes closed. cuz i feel like i'm going to pass out again. shhh... calm down... calm down... you'll be alright...i i... hope so... my hands are tired... its four fourty five right now... i have to be up in three hours... hooker with a penis is on now. my arms feel limp, i don't know how i'm still typing at all... my head keeps rooling to the side, lik ei'm asleep.. but i'm not, because i'm still typing here....

enter. next line.

i feel so strange all over. like i'm floating. like my eyes won't even open anymore. like my legs don't want to work anymore. like my body is just going to shut down.

i'm going now.

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September 30, 2002 @ 3:05 am
disgustipated. i'm sure this is all kinds of dangerous.

i am on a massive caffiene binge right now. it's also three am. (think 3 excedrin, 2 caffiene pills and about a liter of mountain dew)

(if i had speed, i probably would have taken that instead.)

this, my friends, is not pretty.

i'm listening to disgustipated, and nearly having a heart attack. maybe i should go to bed like mike said. my heart is fucking racing, and i'm sure i'm not supposed to be seeing what i am. my hands are shaking violently, making this hard to type.

disgustipated is a verrry strange song to be listening to right now.

this. is. necessary. this. is necessary. life. feeds on life. feeds on life. feeds on. this. is. necessary.

and the fucking crickets oh my god the crickets.

((((DAMN YOU, LET THE RABBITS WEAR GLASSES!))))

[smack on the forehead] calm down..

i just wanted to be able to stay up to do this project. but my hands have been slipping, and i've cut up my fingers/hands pretty bad. so i can't do the project.

i'm ok. i'm ok.

(i just do stupid things.)

i'm sure this is all kinds of dangerous to do. but that's ok. cuz i'm going to have the coolest fucking project come wednesday.

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September 30, 2002 @ 12:32 am
this. is. necessary.

my rage is being taken out on that cardboard in violent ways. and. i love it.

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September 30, 2002 @ 12:27 am
aenema inspired rage

i was listening to aenema. and i still am. and i thought how wonderful it would be to shove this project in mr murray's face and say see? i'm better than you. to show off, and let my ego get some much needed inflating. to watch this project rise from the ashes of the last (i completely restarted, and i'm considering burning the remains, once i've taken all the materials i can from the first.) and actually IMPRESS my dickhead art teacher. oh that would be all too sweet.

why am i wasting time on this computer? back to working on the project.

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September 30, 2002 @ 12:22 am
no inspiration.

still no inspiration to write.

i'm sorry guys.

i'll write more when i've gotten this project done in a few days. i need to get caught up. i don't want to fail. i don't want to be a failure.

(geoff is playing more mind games, and they are getting worse and worse. i mean, this time he tried to tell me that he got laid last night. highly unlikely. he told me he thought sex was boring, and that most of the time he felt like rolling over and going back to bed. i don't know what he trying to prove other than he is a lying, cocksucking hypocrite.)

god. it's monday isn't it? ugh.

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