Post by oliver logan on Jan 29, 2008 1:50:08 GMT -5
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[/size] [/font] [/right]I'm afraid that my mind is starting to lose value. My thoughts come in short, unorganized clusters and usually tell me nothing I need to know. I'm beginning to wonder if the move to Seattle was too big of a step from California; perhaps I should have stayed home. But with who? Everyone I've ever loved in my life is gone, apart from my father, who I never recall affection for. He killed my mother, and that is the way I have viewed him for the past ten years. Nonetheless I haven't gained anything from his death, so my bitterness is losing its edge. My forgiving nature is all too kind.
Noelle hasn't been home lately. She's been out every chance she gets. The only time I've seen her really was when I was with Seth, and she was rushing out to Kennedy's party. Well, I got the better end of the stick. I got Seth. He's an amazing boy. I just really hope the butterflies in my stomach are temporary, because if not, then I may have just ruined both of our lives.
I bought some crank the other day. Not a lot, just a little bit. Enough to keep me occupied while I'm at home; I don't go out much, so that in itself is dangerous. I know it's going to kill me one day. But trust me, I know what I'm doing. I mean, would I be doing it if it wasn't going to kill me sooner or later?
Exactly.
Suicide has been on my mind lately. I know it's not the best thing to be thinking about, but it makes me feel like there's at least one option left if Noelle's plan falls through. Well, I would hardly call self-induced death an option, but either way it's an escape from the world. No one would miss me if I died, anyway. Noelle would be too drunk to even notice, and I have no one else. Seth, potentially, but there's something about him that tells me that he's sleeping with me on thin ice. I just wish I wasn't such a hopeless romantic.
And now I must salute to Brendon, as usual with every infrequent but relaxing diary entry. Brendon, I have no idea where the fuck you are. I'm an Agnostic, so you could be in heaven or decaying under a tree for all I know. You might even be in hell, considering we had sex behind that church. Haha. I miss you. I miss you so much. I swear that when I wake up I can feel your hand on my cheek, like you used to do when you slept. Your smell is everywhere. I still have all of your jeans. Sometimes I try them on, but I'm too scared to wear them. They're yours, not mine. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for letting you walk out like that. I'm sorry that I didn't stop you even though I knew you were going to get hurt. It wasn't like me at all. I just hate that you had to go with a bullet through your heart and blood in your hair. I tried to clean you up but they wouldn't let me. I'm sorry for that too.
It's about time I tried out some of that meth. It's waiting.
~oli
