Journal: another

It’s 5am and I haven’t been here in over a year. I’ve been with Dora for… what, like a year and 4, 5 months? We’re really good a the moment. In my old journals I’d go on to describe how and why.

I seriously thought i was done with this. Today i woke up beside a gorgeous girl, we fooled around then held each other, and i couldn’t have been more relaxed […]

It was the most striking sculpture he’d ever seen, curved to natural perfection, encrusted with dazzling jewels that lit up like tiny suns and mirror eyes that reflected the sorrow in his soul.

Imagine having something wrong with your arms. They’re too short for you to function properly. Imagine living life with such short arms, never being able to reach the things you always wanted, not quite getting to the places you know you could, if only your arms were as long as everyone else’s.

Inattention can be described using my current situation, as I am writing this. My head feels swollen with data coming in, and I’m trying to process it as fast as I can.

I’m been on Prozac, then Dr. Soni prescribed me, at 21, these drugs that just made me feel groggy and hung-over all the time. This new doc, Dr. Sultan, has got me on ‘Depakote’ and ‘Respiridone’.

I need an account of the things I have done up until this point, else I shall forget them. I am still at WHSmith, and the name alone sends a shiver of disgust through my body. The company is failing and the manager of the shop I work in is a slimy little worm with…

[The last entry from my 2004-05 era with another, which is now almost entirely unrecoverable.] i have a secret i’m dying to tell you. school’s out for 2 weeks. i’m trying to make conversaton here. i’m not very good at that, though. i need to pick myself up… but i just feel so drained. to…

Box People are people who live in Boxes, and never come out. Quite simple really. Since they live in boxes and never come out, they can’t see what’s outside the Box, as their Box has no windows. Since their Box also has no door, nobody can come inside a Box Person’s Box. The inside of…

or,ascloseas. ________________________________________ The above was written spontaneously (or, as so as you can with this type of writing), in the midst of some unacquantied but rather familiar feeling. It’s an attempt to record, and hence keep forever, a flicker of happiness in myself. Wether or not it has been effective i have yet to be…

I have a memory of a girl who would bend any which way i desired. I hurt her. Another who could make me feel like the most important person on earth, who could hold me so nothing could hurt, who, despite everything in her mind and in her world, would always find time for me.