damik's Diaryland Diary

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Happy Fucken Birthday

Well happy fucken birthday to me. Got a little drunk last night. Yep, there is a first time for everything and I was actully staggering. Had some pain to kill so I mixed some pills with it. Hopefully the braincells I killed weren't one's I'm going to miss.
But Martika was right, it replaces all but pain. So I spent part of the night wandering the neighborhood (When I say wandering I mean staggering) and the more of it crying in yet another parking lot.
Scary thing is I haven't hit bottom yet, I see that I still have a ways to fall. And I want to hit it, see if I might bounce.
Bad, bad self disttructive Danie.
I need stuff to do. I need stuff to do to keep me away from myself. I need to take up a sport, or start a new hobby. Maybe I should redesigne my diary. I could put countless hours into that and forget everything. Oh, but Trevor has been using the computer more lately. I wouldn't be able to.
I keep thinking of taking Andrew's suggestion and going to some coffee house and writing, but I feel like such a dolt. I feel like I don't belong. I feel silly for even thinking about it.
I've driven him all but nuts now, I'm sure. Too many midnight calls, too many desprate text messages. And I'm stubbern. I don't just get over it like I aught to. I'm going to leave him be now. It was nice of him to offer to let me talk, but he'll end up hateing me if I kept it up. Annoying little bitch.
Oh well, congratulations to me for making it through another year.

7:58 a.m. - 01-30-03
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