9:00 p.m. - 05/03/02
i need a bodyguard.
There's nothing quite like that feeling of watching the screen load after you've hit the back button from a failed attempt to post, absolutely willing your entry to still be there. And there's nothing quite like the sudden ability to commit mass murder that arises when it isn't...Here is, to some extent, what I'd said.
I'm feeling vulnerable to the point that exhibitionism simply does not intrigue; either that or I'm just being lazy. I have the oddest feeling I'm going to be attacked, so I'm kind of hiding in small rooms with 9-1 already dialed, just waiting for the excuse to hit uno again...Offline, I'm writing in short spurts which can be defined as sheer acts of will, or perhaps, sheer examples of failure. Still, it's easier to tuck them away and not stumble across them just because I decided to see if the page is still all the right colors...
Yes.
The one thing about today that I do actually want to remember: I had a beautifully innocent dream about Chas. I was lying on my stomach and she was rubbing my shoulders or washing my hair; for the first time in forever, I was absolutely relaxed. The best part, though, was earlier. We were walking up these stairs, red velvet stairs with shiny caramel-colored railings, and I was struggling a little physically, the way I did when I was really into my eating disorder. At the second flight, I paused to clutch at my breath and the railing, and without missing a beat in the conversation, she turned, took in my situation, and walked down to meet me. Step by step, we walked up the stairs, all but connected at the elbow. It was oooh, so very heavenly.
In real life, she wrote me an e-mail and I still miss her. Oh, and I bought a bike today. It was 5 dollars, and it needs new tires, so it's having a sleepover at a bike shop about forty minutes away with lots of other bikes. It was definitely nervous about spending the night in a strange place, but it calmed down when I told it about the pretty new tires and how strong they would be. It's gold and rust-colored, though I think the rust was not intentioned. Cheap is not always derrogatory; it's a good bike.
I still don't want to post this. (Maybe that's why diaryland is being so shitty to me.) If I am in-and-out the next few days, it's because my mind is flickering as well...what's the matter, dearie? Why can't I feel the love?
urgle
chord
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