STOP IT! (on alcoholic acting)

April, she comes! And the sky is painted blue with an alternately fading sun.

Went out with choir last night and have tasted that sick spice all day today because of it. But the sun spills into my hair, so it is okay.

Last night we had a wonderful thunderstorm with lightening and endless sheets of water. I went into it for two hours and became "the crossing" and today my back is warmed and the sky is blue, blue, blue, stuffed with cotton.

And things stand still because they are at a spot where they can't get worse and have no way of getting better.

And last night he told me that "he doesn't buy it," this whole person.

And I remember what I said--

"I only need to see it to myself."

But, I realize now, that I lied. I sell it to everyone and only started selling it to myself after. This is not who I am. What if I just decided to stop buying! What if I just don't buy it?

I think that's why I'm so set on keeping the other me... because the other me IS the real me and this is all a great game which as gone too far. It's like those people who play dungeons and dragons and they say it completely distorts reality. That's all that this is! And it doesn't have to be bought, it has to stop before it consumes me and ruins my whole life!

There is an easy solution-- it's called STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP!

Stop buying it, stop manufacturing it-- STOP!!!!!

I know why all of this started-- because of pressures to be great and because of love. This was an attempt at fixing it all, but it is too easy to believe my own lies and it is easier to be loved for being fucked up than to really be loved. That's why I collapsed last May-- because everyone stopped buying it.

It's not real! It can't be! This is not the real me and I think that I lie to myself the most and constantly so that I perceive myself to be telling the truth to everyone else.

A great white mass fills the sky now. And the disturbing self-scent dances with an aching back and somewhat pounding head. There is not much else to ay...

If that's the case, I should throw all of these books away and burn them. They are all falsehoods.

(A kid walks by bearing a large wooden cross on his shoulder-- am I seeing things?) And If I'm not, where is his great white horse?)

(I am writing this with the "PILOT BP-S Fine pen that Amac recommended to me).

And I have class in ten minutes (CC) and which that I didn't. I wonder what would happen if I just skipped.

Oh shit! I just realized that i missed my appointment. I will have to email him to reschedule. I'll just say that I was sick and then I'll make sure to actually look a little sick. (How dare I be so self-righteous and pretend that I'm not a liar?!)

Anyway, I think I will close for a little while.

(And Curie stands in front of me and makes me wistful for my twin suns).