19 March '98
crackwhore. it's getting late. or early. i'm fucking tired. i'm fucking awake. i'm too awake. awake. vivarin? no. none here. why do people sleep so early? what is this? who are you??? why're you reading me?! stop! so i dyed my goddamn hair today. and it's quite frightening. i have to find a job or something, so i couldn't dye it the usual pink and blue or whatever, but i was Not going to dye it back to black or some more conservative colour. shrug. so i compromised. though my mother thinks there's no difference. it's auburn-ish and magenta. hire me, PLEASE! sniffle. i don't think anyone wants me. i'm a hard worker, dammit. i don't scare customers away! just no phone survey shit again. someone on my b-list just signed off. now it's just me and some other guy i don't ever talk to anymore. nerrrr. grrrr. blahhhhh. i think i'm afraid to go to bed. that weird eternal death feeling has been coming back to me a lot lately. i'm not entirely sure why. i have a few guesses though. not that i want to talk about any of that crap right now. just brings me back to my nine year old mentality, you know. death death death! not nine years old. nine year old. got it? good. er. i don't even understand what i just said. i mean.. when i was nine. i think i was more suicidal then than any other time in my life. 'specially now. happy-go-lucky? not quite. sandpaper, you know. sandpaper. no.. wait.. uhm.. sawdust! that's it. or was it stardust? either really.. god. shoot me i'm tired. my left foot is numb. my hands are soapy. and tinted a very very light shade of pink 'cause of my hair. but i'm more careful now i think. or maybe i just notice the mess less :P whoa. a tongue. that's my cue.