:: Searching for Puck... ::

:: Thursday, February 03, 2005 ::

I got a ticket yesterday, the cop pulled me over just for having an out of date inspection. $130.

It hit me the way a vicious kick hits a dead body - all this anger, all this kinetic energy colliding with an immovable collection of cold, dead carbon that doesn't even register it. I feel dead inside - dead like dead animals, like dead people, like dead words. My skin and my senses feel drugged-up numb, and I can't elicit any kind of response from anything. I'm debating selling all of my My Little Pony G3 collection and just paying off all of my debt and just taking to the road or something. Anything to see if there's even still life in me.

I love Joey still, but all of these feverent hopes I had had to leave here, get an apartment of our own - they don't thrill me anymore. They don't seem like a plausible goal. I know, even if we leave, his heart will be here, and how can that be a healthy way to begin a life together? Something drifts between us, and I can't seem to clear it. I doubt he's happy, either.

My dreams shift back to death and cold and suicide.

It would seem suicide would be rather redundant, though.

~Fox

:: Fox 2/03/2005 01:10:00 PM [Say what?] ::
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