Yesterday was a black it didn't happen.
I'm looking at my old journal. I used to be so much more superstitious, I wrote a lot about how everything means something. I talk a lot about it to my friends and it's true: my personality has changed in a fundamental way over the last year and a half. I do not feel good and haven't in a while. I don't know what to do.
I think I'm getting a cold. I can't, though, get sick. I have to work and have to write a bunch of things and have to perform on Thursday and Friday and go-go dance on Sunday and I want to start crying. How can I complain about this? Everything is hard.
I am trying not to make it pretty. Not to romanticize the parts of my own craziness, the parts that catalog every thing anyone has ever said. But there is such! overwhelming! evidence! Some kind of pattern! Normal people do not lose days. Normal boys can have a conversation without wanting to jump out of a window. There's a word for boys like me. My stomach hurts. Again.
Heartening that as we speak, our country is electing Barack Obama.