damik's Diaryland Diary

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Lost

Well as you can see, I have been neglecting my dairying duties. It has been ages since my last entry. Why does it feel like I'm talking about confession?

I got my self in an extra's casting type thing. I have already got a day's work. I am stocked, though with my work schedule, it seem like I don't have enough free time to do my acting. But this agency actually impressed me enough, I'm thinking about considering interviewing them to represent me. Not exclusively by any means but... I know, it seems I have it backwards, the talent doesn't scout the agent, the agent scouts the talent, but here with all the fly-by-night agents and rip-off artists, I can't afford to be anything but discerning. If I feel even in the slightest bit like they are going to rip me off, I'll be gone before they can even get out the second bye in bye-bye.

But that isn't really why I'm back here typing. I have reached new levels of desperation. It's like a chore to even get my self out of bed in the mornings. Today I didn't even want to leave my room, I wanted to stay under my covers curled in the fetal position and forget about life.

It seems that everything is screwed up now, I can't seem to do anything right, I'm so behind on my bills I could scream. To make matters worse I'm still getting the most morbid of mental pictures in my head. And every time I see them I smile. What kind of sick person smiles at the thought of herself... God I can't even say it, I don't want to have picture it. I've had so many pictures of my death, I don't know why, and I don't know why I smile. I hate myself for liking the thought.

1:28 a.m. - 04-24-2001
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