i slept from 11.30am wednesday to 10am thursday. i did the things i always do when i'm sick. before i was put to bed, i wrote some stuff instead of taking notes:

God is in the walls, the ache in my bones, the pressure behind my eyes, the pain in my back. He knows what I have done, He knows me like a child. To think is to act, premeditations of Hell. I've mentioned it before, the pain. The pain isn't overpowering, quite the contrary. It hurts like an old friend, I remember her well. She was always smiling, even though there wasn't a reason. Memories of driving, yelling and screaming, little girls on bikes. We are all connected in this, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Only everything.

My mother's hand always felt cool on my forehead. I was never allowed to stay home when I was sick. She forced me to live life. Every time I'm sick, I go back to when I had the plague. I specifically told her not to come. She disobeyed me. And I loved her for it. I keep thinking this is the exact same thing. But I could be wrong. It seems that is the case concerning these matters. The only people who claim they love me are those to whom I'm a stranger. I've mentioned this before, but it still rings true. Just yesterday my roomate's girl stated just that. I've crafted my character well, and I can stay acting for a long time. The problems start when I'm myself. It seems I'm just too boring and sad. I'm starting to look back on my life and question the decisions I've made. I realize now that I haven't learned anything from anyone's mistakes. But I'm sure I'm not unique in any way. So i can't even take solace in that. Oh well...time to put the mask back on.

and then i went into a deep, fevered sleep, where my memories came alive again.

i agree, there is something wrong with me.

i've been described as fog. looking back on it, this is a very apt despcription. i am nothing, just air. but when you are inside, when you are close, i seem very real. i've also been described as a depressing drug. also goes along well with what i appear to do. all in all, i don't think people think of me as a good thing. melodramatic was also brought up as a possible descriptor. as was poetic. the last was said in a derogatory way...

man...i've been stuck in this gear for awhile now. hopefully i'll shift up for this next part. i think i'll need to.

and i really wish i could have been smart enough to buy a Les Paul instead...