Superstar in your own private movie, I wanted just a minor part.

I'm smoking. Though I know that I shouldn't be.
It would seem that I am in the beginning stages
of bronchitis, though I haven't gone to the
doctor yet to verify this. Fuck it. I'm an addict
and I need my fix.

I've also got a terrible amount of things on my
mind right now. The fear of finally cracking
is ever present, what a surprise.

I'm wavering right now inbetween mania and
depression. The smallest things will set me off
in either direction. Being ill isn't helping
matters any, as I'm already weakened when I'm
in that state. Add on top that I haven't been
eating much over the past few days and it all
sums itself into a neat, little weak package.

I should really go to bed soon, but I truly
can't be bothered.

Richard sent me an email today in reply to
something I'd written to him about me having
to wear masks all the time. About how when I
get depressed and surly with him, that's when
the mask slips. He doesn't understand why I
feel the need to wear one around everyone I know.
Hell, I don't completely understand why I do.
It's mostly just self preservation. Not that
it works, really. But, it gives me the illusion
of safety.

And that's all I truly want. To be safe from
harm. No more pain.

It's so hard to continue in an endeavour when
almost all you feel is pain. It's hard to keep
someone's face in your heart when the memory
of them does nothing but strike daggers. And it's
hard beyond all possible belief when every
breath serves no other purpose other than
drawing pain upon your person.

I'm beginning to feel the run away urge again.
Something which I haven't felt in a long, long
time. Run. Hide. Become a new person. Dissolve
the old. Focus only on the new.

How many more times can I continue that pattern?
I'm so sick of being an ostrich, with my head
in the sand. But, what other alternative is
there?