2005-04-30 - 7:05 p.m.

for no particular reason, i'm feeling totally

d
o
w
n


picking apart each inch of my face. not satisfied with my newer clothes, nothing coming together, feeling not enough. too fat. too billowing. too gargantuan. i'm not able to fit into my skin very well today.

i'm going to obligatory parties tonight. birthdays. nothing would feel right about tonight, so there really isn't anything else that i could think i would rather be doing. okay, i could imagine a few things, but they are ficitious. like making love in a cabana by the beach and going for a barefoot dinner. and then dancing all night. and making more love to candle light. and laugher. and snuggling.

i'm not feeling the novelty of the scar tonight. i just don't want it there. i have no energy. last night my friend xtina and i went vicious on the east side. bar hopped. we enjoyed, but it was ultimately draining, i was falling asleep as i drove home. i hate when i get like that.

i'm depressed because i don't have any highs. okay, work is certainly high, but slightly exhausting. my place, once again, has become a tornado disaster zone. a no mans land. a i-can't-believe-someone-actually-lives-here place of stay. my work piles up and so does my space. my car is a mess. it boggs me down, depresses me. i just don't feel as if i have the energy to clean it all up, not to mention i hate that it will take an entire day to do. and i still have to do my financials and taxes and i feel ripped off, like i can't enjoy the new order, negated by the law suit. no one believes me, they think i'm kidding with them.

only me.

the irish lass with luck of the extremes.

in a week i'll win a $600 surfboard, a trip to nyc and a thousand dollars.

in a week i'll have my engine fail, for the second time, get two speeding tickets, have some one chasing after me for some fender bender and then borrow a bff's car only to ding the most lunatic man in a camero in the entire city that insists on shouting, "i'm not gonna chicken shit you on this." to this day, that fine wt statement is lost on me, although from the results from insurance, it meant, no way in hell am i going to let you off on this, even though there isn't any damage and when you pulled off to buy a camera to take legal pictures i sped off to do more fucking crack cocaine.

luck. of . the. extremes.

i always feel slightly better when i write. more, at peace with the war of words shadow boxing in my brain.

my spirit feels depressed, sequestered, heavy. why? is it the drinking? i've been wondering about it. my cycles/moods have always been this way.

i'm also sad becuz my brother and i still can't get it together. he still wants to blame me, put the whole kitten kabboddle on my lap and i stubbornly won't allow it. so it just sits on the shelf collecting dust of anger, resentment and the regret of time tarnishing our relationship.

i guess i feel sad becuz i haven't been living by the highs, for a while. i've had no action. not intensity. okay, for a week anywya. but even then, it's been so spread out, so calm. i'm borred under the normalicy of it all. i'm thick. compliant.

so i'm now late. i have to pick up cat to go to these bdays. i know i'm going to skip the second one. i just can't go there tonight.

:*)