damik's Diaryland Diary

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Whaaaa?

I'm not proud to admit but I am thinking of trying to find away to spy on everything that Trevor does online. I was wondering if there was a way that I could read what went on in a MSN messenger chat type thing. And if I could track his out going e-mails on hotmail.

I really did try and trust him. I did, but he keeps acting more and more suspicious. If he doesn't give me more reasons to trust him then he gives me not to, well it seems to me that I don't have a choice.

I was real grouchy today. I was bitching at everyone. And picking fights. I don't know what is going on, but I'm usually not this bitchy. I wish I could relax or something. It seems that everything stresses me out lately. I start to think about this or that an soon enough I've gotten myself all worked up. And then I blow a fuse.

I was told to try meditation. For my short temper and also because I can't remember things from one min. to the next. God, at the store yesterday I lost my wallet three times. And forgot this and that. And this and that again. I think I need to bang my head against the wall repeatedly for awhile. At least until I get my senses back. Or knock the remaining senses out of me.

I'm tired and restless at the same time. I feel like crying and screaming. I don't feel as though I have control. I feel like I lost control of everything. My job, my home life, finances, all the important stuff. I can't even control how I feel from moment. I blow up for the most stupid things. I left something at work today. Something easily replaceable, I don't really need it, and I freaked out. I hate it when Trevor says I freak out, but that�s what I did. I feel desperate. Like I need a shot of something.

I wish i could be one of those people who self medicate. I want to smoke and drink and do drugs so people can see my life spiraling, like I see my life spiraling. They don't notice a little thing like cuts on your arm. They don't worry when you can't where short sleeves in 90 degree weather. But if I came to work drunk, instead of bleeding from a hidden wound, that would raise a few flags and people would have to worry about me. I want to self destruct. I yearn for the flaming wreckage my life has the potential to be. But I can't even do that.

I don't see the point. I'm the invisible girl. I bet they wouldn't even notice if I was drunk. I have so many options. I could bring myself down in so many ways. I just don't do anything.

I just wait. I wait for my hero to see my plight and rescue me. I don't call out for help as he walks by, but, to his back, in a small inaudible whisper I cry 'Help me, I need you.'

12:35 a.m. - 05-16-2001
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