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7 March '98

i's got a headache. i'm feeling things that i dont wanna feel. i'm eating things that i dont wanna eat. and i'm drawing hands on my eyes, waiting, waiting. my head says, "dont do it, audrey, dont do it." but.. i dont know! who's deserving of the past, i wonder. it must be her. because i'm here. content in my bubble of NONwretchedness, you know. my hands are black. the keyboard is poking holes into all the plastic bottles of the world. and i'm STILL waiting. where? no questions. no answers. i thought about Death today. it's been a while. i drew her on my carpet and kissed the charchoal. my lips are black now. i think of the song. my mind is black now. how does it all work? i turn down "shopping" to stay home and sketch? to stay home and cancerize the back of my eyes. waiting. again? crying a little. wishing the computer wasn't so far away. i hear a scream five million miles from here. it's.. someone. it's my stomach. finally! i've been waiting all XXXXing day for my stomach to yell at me. that terrible (fish) pavlovian scream. et toi? i ask. and i bet she wont respond. i feel so inconsistent today because i'm paying attention to all the details and ignoring them all at once. and this girl i've never know waves to me again. sheesh. what does she expect? i don't even have her name written down. i float back to my original hauntings. balsawoody? hah. i've gotta fish here. what a wonderful world this is, no? my toes are frozen. like madonna, and my mind.. well.. it's moving. it's moving to keep things moving. if i stop typing, i'll have to start writing, so i type as fast as i can.. (why, shouldn't i be typing slowly?), and i converse. no. not the shoe. two three one person. i can get this done man. my week? how was my week? well. i spent it thinking about you.. and i also spent it dreaming about you. and hmm what else. i also spent it wishing i was actually with you. in a physical sense of course. and.. well. i dunno, you tell me! i think i'll go get some socks now 'cause my toes are starting to bitch me out. OUCH. i spend my life wiggling my toes and ignoring them at the same time. feet are weird she told me. that's the third thing i'll never forget. more will come later. what is coherent? cetainly not me. i'm only doing this because justin asked me to. yeah right. if only life were that simple, you know. i have this pencil, it's a duck. and led comes out of its ass? no. well, yeah. but no. not its ass. close those. anyway. i'm wiggling my now-suffocated toes and waiting patiently for m'girl to come back. but i never associate patience with that kind of waiting 'cause i miss her desperately 24/7, right? yes. just as i think that, the computer screen tints. damn those pins. brrr. i lost a thought. i THOUGHT i was typing fast enough! damn these fingers that i've drawn inconsistently over and over and OVER again for the past fourty-eight hours. oh, how i miss those days. when i could say "gee, this would never happen to me." and well NERR. right. right. okay. i hate decisions, people, i HATE THEM. shiver.

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