Men in Suits

So, once again a million and one things have happened that I don't have the energy or care to recount (fight and a DATE with Narc; kissing Druggie's friend Caleb, sleeping with the Irish guy in 14-B, getting drunk in front of cousin Tony and worse-- Mom!) Anyway, I'm sick of being in a bar and pretending to read about the French Revolution. I don't even have any crushes anymore (except Narc), which only indicates the kind of deranged tricks the mind can play on you.

There are so many men in suits in here right now. None of them give a shit about me and I'm depressed. So... I don't know... Suits... Suits... Suits.... and me. Am I going to die like my dad? Is that my fate? I know why I think about him all the time. I wonder if BigSis and LilSis think about him half as much.

Sometimes I wonder what happened to me... if there's some secret hidden in my past. Or if I was just made-- designed to be this way by God. Made to be alcoholic. Made to be unacceptable. I feel myself slipping into a bad train of thought... I think I should go back to reading the fucking Woloch article about Furet and the French Revolution.

On the Circle Line

September is supposed to be about rebirth. That's why I'm back here on the Circle Line. There are a lot of people here alone.

You know what... I can't do this.

I thought I wanted to write, but I can't even face my pen.

I am a coward.