10:35 p.m. --- i don't care who wins the election. --- 2004-11-01
my dreams are plagued with the phrase "for your own good" and syringes and tourniquets and long, white, institutional hallways. in the world of my dreams, i am forever trapped in an asylum, wondering how i ever got there, and how i will ever get out. my head aches with racing thoughts that never leave my mind and the my eyes are sore from held-back tears.
i hate spending my days at home, or making a quilt quietly at my grandmother's sewing machine. i saw Savannah the other day and she wanted to know when i was coming back to school. i want so desperately to go back.
but with more mania i want this guilt and sadness to stop making my life a maze of unpleasant emotions. earlier today i wanted so desperately for the thoughts to stop racing, for the damage to gradually heal and for my existance to be somehow redeemable. but the heartbreaking truth is, only death can bring such peace. peace...
