09.27.02 When i started this thing here on diaryland... it was to pass the time. BUT NOW... Now... now it is how i breathe. in & out. (a dirty phone call) to spill it all out & it is good. Like gripping the sides of the toilet on your knees [the cold tile of the bathroom floor] and the acid burns your tongue... & it feels better when all that alchohol is floating in the toilet instead of your stomach, brain. ------ So would i care if "someone" read it? If they read their name... & knew that my smile was fake & used up... My little diary? Would it be taken as a cry for help... ? Would "someone" get their feelings hurt? It isn't meant to hurt. But its not supposed to tickle... My words are stupid. stupid. stupid. I hide here. I am not real. not real. (& I am NOT drunk) But tonight i will be. My craving is back. I drempt about it last night. I can't stop. I will stop by the store on the way home and pick up a six pack & some ground turkey (the poor man's hamburger), and get drunk with my NEW George Foreman grill. And I will take a hot bath and start a fight with Boyfriend just for the drama of it. And then I will procede to make lists of things to do with my Saturday... and those things will slip away. I am sooo good at that. And i will pretend that nobody knows me... that nobody will ever read this. |
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