I am a conglomerate garbage heap of loose ends—selfish, scared, contemplating... going...anywhere, anywhere, where the burden, the terrifying hellish weight of self-responsibility and ultimate self-judgment is lifted. I can see ahead only into dark, sordid alleys, where the dregs, the sludge, the filth of my life lies, unglorified, unchanged—transfigured by nothing: no nobility, not even the illusion of a dream. Reality is what I make it. That is what I have said I believed. Then I look at the hell I am wallowing in, nerves paralyzed, action nullified—fear, envy, hate: all the corrosive emotions of insecurity biting away at my sensitive guts. Time, experience: the colossal wave, sweeping tidal over me, drowning, drowning. How can I ever find that permanence, that continuity with past and future, that communication with other human beings that I crave? Can I ever honestly accept an artificial imposed solution? How can I justify, how can I rationalize the rest of my life away?

in a rabbit-fear i may hurl myself under the wheels of the car because the lights terrify me, and under the dark blind death of wheels i will be safe. i am very tired, very banal, very confused. i do not know who i am tonight. i wanted to walk until i drop and not complete the inevitable circle of coming home.

i thought about ending it but the skin of my wrist looked so white and defensless that i couldn't do it. it was as if what I wanted to kill wasn't in that skin or the thin blue pulse that jumped under my thumb, but somewhere else, deeper, more secret, and a whole lot harder to get.

i wonder why i don't go to bed and go to sleep. but then it would be tomorrow, so i decide that no matter how tired, no matter how incoherent i am, i can skip on hour more of sleep and live