maybe maybe maybe oh i just don't care
2003-02-25 || 9:19 a.m.

My computer screen is covered with pictures of guys from make out club - courtesy of Rebecca.

jesus.

I've had lots of dreams again but quite honestly since I've been logging them the past couple of weeks it just becomes apparent that every dream can be traced back to waking life. Even the oddest ones. I just think everything is a sham.

I shall never believe anything again. It seems that the brain has infinite capacity to bewitch and cajole.

I'm tired of everything. I'm tired of being me and being just so dumb.

I don't believe any of this. It is all fake. I don't know what is meant by things being real anyway. What is real?

When I was small I had a playroom. Inside the playroom was a wendy house. Inside the wendy house was my doll's crib and high chair and baby walker and a table and a rug. I used to spend a lot of time in there. When I was six I planned to leave. So I told my best friend at school. She said she would come with me. So that evening I went home and went into my wendy house. I packed all the stuff that me and polly would need and left the house. I had arranged to meet Caroline in the church yard at the end of my road. But she never turned up. I waited for ages. I knew she wouldn't come. I knew even before I left the house that she wouldn't come. I sat in the church yard with my back against the fence so that if anyone was walking past they would not see me and tell me to go home. I stayed there for what seemed like ages. And then I added a bit more time on, just for good measure. I wanted my mum to be bothered about where I was.

Then I went home.

Talk about fucked off. No-one had noticed I had gone.

So I never said. I never said 'hey I ran away and you didn't notice', because I knew they would just laugh.

And I just cannot be bothered to draw out any analogies from that.