Index - Profile - Archives - Notes - DiaryLand - Random ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 82 My Berkeley days consisted of drinking myself to sleep, writing love letters that were never read, and singing to an open window. On the mornings I felt okay enough to leave the house, I sometimes took the train into San Francisco to ride the bus around the city. One dollar kept me from feeling completely dead. Occasionally, I bought CD's from the used CD place in the Haight. Something to blast out the noise of other people. Very rarely, I went down to College. The homeless people in Berkeley made me feel worse than the ones in the City, as though they were more educated and therefore more sad than the others. On one visit to College, I wandered into an Indie shop on the premise of buying a Sting CD. I'm not sure why, it was apparent from the white board in the window of the top 20 in the UK that I was not going to find what I wanted. I went in anyway... hoping to maybe find an out of print, import Morrissey single. [Still, my two greatest finds are This Charming Man and Viva Hate (out of print, limited edition, import)] It was in this shop that I bought Heaven or Las Vegas - Cocteau Twins and Velvet Pants - Propellerheads. I listened to Heaven or Las Vegas (track 5) a few times, and stashed the CD in my rack. That was three years ago. Yesterday, I felt like falling asleep to something, and I was feeling a bit nostalgic, so, I put the CD in. I got stuck on track 3. I listened to it 10 times before falling asleep. I listened to it on the way to work. I listened to it on my first break, my second break, my lunch. Finally, I took it out of my CD player to force Kristin to love it. Then I looked at the title of the song. Iceblink luck. I had inadvertently fallen in love with someone else's song. . . . I've cried off and on since 3. The whole left part of the neck on my sweatshirt was wet from laying on my side, on my bed. I didn't think I had that much water in my body. This is me, too. This place where faith and hope can hurt me as much as bring me up. Where they both just tear me apart. I can talk and ask and receive the right answers. I can doubt and question and resolve to never do it again. I can't cut. I can't let go. If you see me dying, you'll know. . . . I know I said I wasn't going to put my real feelings here. Sometimes, I do not do what I say. Most times I don't. It's always easier to do how you've always done than to change. . . . Today I don't see. Today I can't see. Today I am worthless and ugly and stupid. Today I'll never learn how to walk properly. I'll never learn how live right. I'll never make the right, healthy choice. I'll never make anything of myself. Today, I suck. Today I don't see anything worth more than the forty dollars in my wallet. Today I walk outside, smoke a cigarette, figure it all out, come back to this chair, only to forget it all and start over. 5:15 p.m. - 2002-10-02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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