Listening to Radiohead, and smoking a hand-rolled cigarette.  (I roll filters into them.)  My back is killing me.  I want to f@ck up so badly, but I know that’s not really me, thinking those thoughts.  It’s the depression, and the addiction, and the fear of moving on.

"Her green plastic watering can, for her fake Chinese rubber plant, in the fake plastic earth that she bought from a rubber man, in a town full of rubber plans, to get rid of itself. It wears her out, it wears her out.  It wears her out, it wears her out."

My body’s been waking up, and I’ve been feeling things I haven’t felt in a while.  Unfortunately, none of it’s good.  But, I know it won’t be too long before my body starts waking up in a more pleasant way.  I’ll feel awake and alive (in a more pleasant way), and it won’t hurt like hell to wake up.  I just have to hang on long enough to get there. 

"She lives with a broken man.  A cracked polystyrene man, who just crumbles and burns… 
She looks like the real thing.  She tastes like the real thing.  My fake plastic love.  But I can’t help the feeling I could blow through the ceiling, if I just turn and run.  And it wears me out, it wears me out.  It wears me out, it wears me out."

But, I feel really weak, and discouraged.  Last night was long, and hard, and ugly. 

I’m not giving up…  but, I’m not feeling strong either.

I emailed Ace a quick note.  I could have thrown a promise in there (the promise he forgot to ask for last night).  But, I didn’t.  I know it’s not a free pass or anything, I just can’t see making a point of promising when I feel this close to the edge.  I already feel like I promise too much – like I set myself up to let him down, when I say those words.

"And if I could be who you wanted…  if I could be who you wanted…  all the time…  all the time."  (Radiohead, "Fake Plastic Trees")

So tired…  can’t rest.  I should take a shower, but it’s so hard to move around, right now.  A shower might help my back, but I am SO exhausted.  Soon, I won’t have time.  Gotta get ready for outpatient.  So, I finish smoking, and get up off my ass.

No time to shower, now.  Just have to move…

One foot in front of the other…  trying not to think too far ahead…  trying to focus on the voice of reason in my head, telling me:

Just breathe…




And, relax…

Everything’s gonna be fine.






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