(oct 27, 2001)

What a mistake that was. Running from the trappings of my sick, twisted mind into something even more elusive and uncertain. That time uncertainty sounded pretty good to me. Uncertainty sounded like a promise that would take a while to come to fruition. I craved something that would need some time to solve and understand. Something that would keep my mind off itself before it reels away from Sanity Street.

I needed a distraction. A decoy. Snapping rubber bands against my wrist was no longer effective enough.

I keep thinking if this whole mess was just my sick way of distracting myself. Well it worked. Like a charm. Or more like Prozac. Better than Prozac.

But your body grows more resistant to pills after it has gotten comfortable with them. Their effect becomes more and more subdued.

Yet your effect was fierce and relentless. You unraveled my immune system and left it in shambles. You were so much better than Prozac. The scientists must have felt pretty pissed off to find out that their wonder drug has been easily rivaled by you.

You were a drug. And I'm with an addictive personality. It didn't take long for the two to find and make use of each other. The rest was as typical as any junkie story.

Any junkie knows she has to give it up. I knew this all along. But I have become so good at deluding myself that in my twisted head things were just dandy. Typical junkie trait. Denial is my middle name, if not first.

But I have no unpunctured veins left and my sanity has been giving me ultimatums. The sane choice was obvious but it was never sudden.

With all my will, my dear, I'm leaving now.


listening to:
- Nowhere To Go by Melissa Etheridge
- Black by Pearl Jam