perfect circles
2003-11-02 || 9:29 p.m.

All the calendars in my house have stopped.

They stopped a year ago.

In my kitchen I have a Muchas calendar. It is still on December 2002. In my front room I have a 'The art of Shakespeare' calendar. It also is stopped at December 2002.

Just like my reading stopped a year ago.

I have made half-hearted always thwarted attempts to read. I tried to read 'The Spell of Winter'. I got almost all the way through a Kurt Cobain biography and again, almost all the way through a biography about life in Africa.

I want to read Charlotte Sometimes again. I haven't read it the whole of this year. That is something that has never happened before but the thought of even touching the cover makes me feel sick. Sick at myself, that someone like me should touch something so beautiful.

My friendships have stopped. The friends I thought were mutual turned out to be Alain's friends.

Its the strangest, weirdest thing.

And do you know, someone stole my design. They stole my whole diary site including my site meter, so its been registering everyone going here and there.

People are so very strange. If they had asked I would have said they could have it.

No problem.

So I'm still walking in my stupid circles. I'm back to where I always am. Realising I just have to live for others. Put others first always. Humans, animals, plants. But not me. Never me.

But I do have to exist and I need a friend so I need to start some honest diary entries soon. Its not like I'm dishonest, I just don't maybe write about what is on my mind.

I have to squash myself utterly. Eradicate any stupid feelings. I must live for others only and always.

My circles always bring me back to there.