imagine
2003-06-15 || 2:09 p.m.

All day yesterday I felt so bleak, so small and insignificant and just so nothing.

I had this thought about nothing being real, about me being just a moment of perception and so I thought about how suicide just would not matter if that was so.

And so I went and laid down. Mainly it was because I hadn't been up for long and I'd already fallen asleep in the bath. And so I thought about stuff.

Before I die I would like to go away on holiday. I'd like to go somewhere warm like Italy or Spain. I'd like to stay in an apartment, cool and clean with square stuff. I'd like to wake up in the morning and open the balcony doors and look out onto a white sandy beach and deep blue sea. I'd like to spend the day swimming and reading. I'd eat fruit for breakfast, bread and cheese for lunch and barbequed vegetables and salad for dinner. In the evening I would sit on the balcony watching the lights of boats on the sea, with a long cold vodka, lime and lemonade and in the night I'd lie under a white sheet with my arms around the only person I would like to be there with me. The one person who shares my dreams and understands.

And then I'd come home and follow the map on my arms and all the pain will flow out of me.