oh my god panic panic panic. time keeps pushing me along and i fucking hate it, i can't do it, i can't breathe or see or think. i am angry and hateful and clenching my jaw, wired for self-destruction. christ.

madder and madder, don't know what i'll do. drinking makes me feel better, whiskey is best. i'm tired of the company i keep and want to move on. want to purge all possessions and burn bridges and run away, curl up and wait for the sun to shine. i don't know, i'm having a problem with optimism. oh and everything else.

so angry, or maybe i just want solitude. or better company. or more drugs. who the fuck knows, just something.

i mean, it's ok. i'll listen to things and think about you, about you being next to me and me not being alone. i listen to things and i'll hope and wish and long and you will be none the wiser, isn't that tragic? i want you and you have no idea, the depth of my need.

i wish you would talk to me, i know you don't read this so it's useless, but i wish you would call me. i send little hopes into the air when i'm drunk that you'll dial me and i could hear your voice at the right moment and i could slur my childish adoration for you, trip over words, try to explain to you why i feel the way i do, but i don't really know, i'll just talk to hear myself and to comfort me, to imagine you smiling, wishing i was there. but i don't know how you feel, i don't know, and it's so heartbreaking.

s is so upset over d, i can't handle it. she's heartbroken and i can see it in her eyes and i don't know what to do. i just nod and frown and hold her when she needs it, but i'm no good at this. i need consoling myself. where are you?

i'm just going to go to sleep because i'm drunk, because i'm so tired of waiting and hoping, so so tired, and i can't keep it up. maybe i'm just lonely but i want to be near you, and you only.

wind is blowing dried leaves across the asphalt and it sounds like rain. my whiskey-to-coke ratio is increasing, my house is a fucking mess. i'm a fucking mess. i panic when i think about my life. i don't know what to do or what to think, i'm frozen in fear. i'm distracting myself, like a fucking stupid child. i forgot how i was and i forgot how to get there. i used to function once, didn't i? i feel like i don't want to go on. i just want to stop, run away. i haven't felt this way since high school. will i be this way forever? i need something.

whiskey does the trick!

Sarah
so glad you are heeeeeere

Jane
why are you bored?

Sarah
yessssssss

Jane
well i am no good.

Sarah
why????

Jane
i'm watching dexter ughhhh get out of class.

Sarah
o true

Sarah
welp
i will miss you
want me to bring anything home? or is there pizza still??!

Jane
pizza still.

Sarah
let's get some waaangs
aka wings

Jane
hahahaha aka wangs.

Sarah
love me some wangs

Jane
mm wangs.
ok gross girl i'm getting off the internet.

Sarah
what u say
it isn't showing up

Jane
hahahahahdsfjsdfkl you are so funny.

Sarah
:(

Jane
i SAID I'M GETTING OFF THE INTERNET.

Sarah
nooooooooooooo

Jane
oh yes.

Sarah
ate boundaries

Jane
wtf does that mean.

Sarah
woops
you got some of my notes

Jane
hahahahahaha

thinking about a lot of things, thinking about how different i am, how weird everything is, how sorry i feel, thinking about the past past past -- a sinking feeling in my chest, my heart a bag of sand with holes punched in it. thinking about how i'm not the person i want to be, but is there another way to be? i want to be happy and i want to do what i want and for the most part i've got it down, but i'm ill-prepared for the future. EXCITED, hopeful, scared, but ill-prepared. i need comfort now: literary, auditory, physical. i am weighed down by bad feelings, taking on water, sinking fast. and i can feel the familiar shroud settling down on me -- depression, self-pity self-pity self-pity. loneliness.

last day at work, smoked weed in the bathroom and snuck whiskey into my coke. lots of things to do tomorrow but no desire to do them.

i'm probably not what you want anyway.

i'm not good with longing.

what'd make me happier: polaroid film, books of poetry, more tattoos, straight a's, a job i enjoy & not having to worry about money, a car with cruise control, love letters, acres of land someplace where i can see the horizon, dogs, a lengthy road trip, being cooked for, lavender and baby's breath, fishing, travel, to smell rain in the desert again, museum visits, no worries no worries no worries.

the list seems pretty long but i'm not miserable right now. it's beautiful outside, 75 degrees and breezy and big fat white clouds. my window's open so the air smells like fast food. i have things to worry about -- school work i haven't touched, due dates passing me by, one job ending and another beginning, calling out when i shouldn't've, where did the money i make over the summer go? i smoked and drank and ate it all up and i'm telling myself i'm glad, this summer was one of growth for me, very exciting, no regrets no regrets no regrets.

i can't believe it's october.

this is for future reference:

Barking

BY JIM HARRISON

The moon comes up.

The moon goes down.

This is to inform you

that I didn’t die young.

Age swept past me

but I caught up.

Spring has begun here and each day

brings new birds up from Mexico.

Yesterday I got a call from the outside

world but I said no in thunder.

I was a dog on a short chain

and now there’s no chain.

Ask me for anything else by Marge Piercy

Patience is dun-colored,

the mousy, the confusing
fall warbler that eats the worms,
the nourishment of beans and whole wheat,
the slow rain the crops
need that grows mold
on the mind.

Watson has patience and muddy
boots, not Holmes with his
cocaine needle. Old dogs
snore their patience.
Cats pace. Big cats
cut patience from the herd
and run it down panting
for hot breakfast.

Patience is a game you play
in a damp chilly cabin
while the river roars
and the path is too soggy
to hike out. Patience
is a tick waiting on a grass
blade for you or your dog.
Patience is the joy
of oysters.

Try me for energy, passion,
hard work, loyalty, hope,
but patience is the spider's
virtue, and I am
the glinting biting fly.

Patience is the library
angel, balancing water
in the air between cups.
I am the fiery one
leaping and gone.
How shall I wait
for you? I wring my hair
dry and the pebbles
of the minutes hit me
in the face. My hands
scrape the air.
I am empty with wanting,
not like a box
but like a tiger's belly.