I was staring at my cat, long gone, Syd, a vicious little thing, orange fur, licking flames of fire. His amber eyes spoke to me, spoke through me, “Don’t you remember Cara? Don’t you remember what happened to you in your last life ( Read more... )

I’m in recovery though. I started an outpatient chemical dependency program about a week after my discharge from the psych ward, and I just recently graduated from there. It was an intense program, and I still have to attend a relapse prevention group one night a week where they will continue to test my pee. I suppose it’s not really mandatory. I ( Read more... )

I got discharged from the hospital today. Good times. Good times.

I read a book today. My trunk is filled with boxes of random junk, yesterday, looted, from Trevor’s desecrated apartment. I started the year out driving, alone in my car. I played a game of chess with a friend, just before, trying not to be afraid to lose, moving instinctively, not really trying to win. Just play. It ended in a stalemate, and I ( Read more... )

I’m eating raisin bran cereal. I’m sick of fruit loops. I opened up the box thinking, “These raisins had damn well better be sugarcoated.” And they were. It was exciting. Anyway, I’m not going to talk to anybody else for the rest of the night (the cereal box doesn’t count) just in case. It is Monday, you know. I lied. I’m not sick of fruit loops. I ( Read more... )

I’m lame, still shivering from being outside for so long. I was talking to my ex boyfriend on the phone for almost an hour. I had expected him to make me feel worse, more determined. I was counting on it, but he didn’t. I feel the same, more or less. In that, the conversation changed something significant for me, though I don’t know what, but I ( Read more... )

I want to delete all the bullshit. I want to make every word perfect. But fuck it. Nobody reads these things anyway. That’s the chisel ( Read more... )

If I don’t swallow a bottle of xanax tonight, it’s because I don’t think it’ll kill me, but if I do, and somehow die, I want you all to know… misunderstand, thoughts and emotions, especially words, have no meaning. If I never write again, that’s why, but most likely I’ll still be alive. For long enough.

Adam died a year ago today. I think I’ll take his screen name off my buddy list now.

My paper on Pakistan will never exist. I don’t think formal education is for me. I want out. I need some sort of alternate plan though. I told this to Mike, and he said that my plan should be to marry him. That’s certainly part of my plan, but I need a career plan too. Or do I? Nothing appeals to me. I can’t think of one job that I would enjoy and ( Read more... )