i went to my parents friend's house and we all made merry until ten p.m, and then we went home and watched the ball drop with little enthusiasm. i waited for Percia to get online but she never did, so i just sat in front of the computer listening to my music turned down low and read Harry Potter fan fiction/slash (slash = an intricate story that usually involves two male characters at some point having sex. but i overlook the whole sex part. these aren't just fuck stories. many of them are pretty long and very good). there are some really good writers out there. i had nothing better to do.

i was just emotionlessly sitting there, when the lyrics "tell me we both matter/ don't we?" surfaced through the music and actually registered in my brain. and i became very sad. deeply and inexplicably sad. i mean, what do i have to complain about? i have a good life. i have two good parents who get along, i have a brother that i love, and i have a girlfriend who i think i love. i have Maleka, my friend i made at Pinefield Institution to call when i feel like hanging out at the mall, which, admittedly is not often. but it's all gravy, right? i mean, i'm relatively stable and such. but... it feels like there is a part of me out there that i will never know, that will "die a virgin," so to speak.

so i went upstairs and took my meds, and went in my room. i stood in front of my dresser, and stared at the boxcutter i stole from target, lying concealed under a pair of bart simpson panties in my drawer. i didn't technically steal it. there was a huge pile of boxes and a glint of silver caught my eye. it was lying there, unmarked, so innocent-looking, yet so sinister. i grabbed it and held it in my hand all the way out of the store, and it only occurred to me that i had "stolen" it on the car ride home.

i made up my bed and sat on it, and cut a row of semi-deep, vertical cuts at the crease of my elbow. i soaked up the blood with a dark blue handkerchief. my mom came in to say good night to me, and asked me what was wrong. i told her "nothing is wrong, i'm just tired." so she left and shut the door. i absent mindedly stroked the soft head of a huge stuffed dog i got for christmas. he is a nameless dog, but he sleeps next to me.

he's a good boy.