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2000-09-07
13:55:16
that's it. i refuse to be taken in by what's going on in my head. i find myself overwhelmed by things that don't really exist lately, and that's just not right. i will not give in to the destructive thoughts in my head.
last night, i was trying desperately to fall asleep, knowing that i have escaped from all of my troubles, but of course, sleep was not coming. all i wanted was a good night's rest after all the trauma i've been through of late, and even that was not allowed.
God is denying me any of the mortal pleasures that anyone should be able to celebrate. i know it. He's deliberately taken away my ability to find comfort in anything. He's made me unnaturally paranoid about things i would prefer never to think about, and i just want it to stop! is a good night's sleep too much to ask?
i never did fall asleep last night. i was going to go out looking for a job today, but i can barely see the screen of my laptop as i type this. my eyes are so tired that they feel like they're going to fall asleep, while the rest of my mind and body struggles through an eternally troubled consciousness. i can't live this way. i just can't do it.
i won't.
i was doing alright for a few days, really. for a few glorious days, i was able to forget about my troubles, but they're all coming back. i don't think it's going to be that easy to forget that i'm a killer.
where are the police? are they looking for me? is jess doing alright without me? should i go back home?
NO, i can't go back home. it was so much worse there. i need this change. i need this new town as much as i need the air that i breathe, and yet i can't see things improving all that much.
every time i closed my eyes last night, i could see angela. i kept envisioning her, dressed in a beautiful white dress, almost like a bridal gown. she was sleeping peacefully. her face was painted with such thick make-up that she would've looked like a beautiful porcelain doll, if it wasn't for the fact that her body was beginning to decay.
i can see little black holes causing craters in her complexion. i can see her fingers curled around themselves, blue with coldness and still as a statue...her fingers are long and thin...she must've had beautiful hands.
death is haunting me. death has surrounded the picture of angela in my head, and i can witness her useless carcass stiffening in the hands of rigor mortis. i can see her eyes sewn shut and her lips closed as a barrier, forbidding the exodus of words she never had the opportunity to speak.
and it's all my fault.
