Dear Diary . . . day by day

Thursday, January 18th, 2001 - Unfit for Human Consumption

I don't like myself very much these past few days. That's really hard to deal with, overwhelming self-loathing. I'm as depressed as I was in mid-November, which is honestly very scary. I have to make sure I don't give in to the urge to cry all day long at work, because once I start I know I won't be able to stop, and I'll have to beg off work and ride the bus home with my face streaming with tears.
As it was, I kept my head down and did my invoices very quickly and efficiently. The people are nice here, but the work is stressing me. I am screaming inside, and through every joint from my neck down my arms.
I sat on the bus on the way home with my face so much a mask I could feel it, and I thought about death. Killing myself is really not an option, but wishing for death is. I wish I could read on the bus, but it makes me motion sick, so tonight instead of watching people (which might make me cry) I stared out the window and wished myself dead.
Oddly enough, I passed a sign outside of Rent-a-Relic that said in large letters:
Life is real.
Pain is real.
Death is not an option.
Now that I think about my mindset that whole bus ride and how miserable I was, that sign showing up (and me actually seeing it; things were passing by in a blur) seems kinda eerie. Sometimes I swear I'm just living inside one of my stories, where everyone ends up unhappy and symbols leap too obviously from the page sometimes.
Anyway.
I don't quite trust myself right now, so if the entries are a little sporadic, forgive me, ok?

Exercise log:
Lifted weights last night: chest and triceps. 10 minute Abs class and 25 minutes on the precor machine. I ran a mile in 11:39 (is that how you write it for min:sec?)! Of course, this is lo-impact; my knees wouldn't like that if I ran it on the ground. But I was pleased.
Writing log:
I'm far too superstitious to write about writing here right now; sorry.
I'm currently reading:
Starlight 2 anthology edited by Patrick Nielsen Hayden
Still Flipping Through:
Dancing with Cats by Burton Silver and Heather Busch
The Writer - Janurary 2001 (magazine)
Still reading, off and on:
Woman: An Intimate Geography by Natalie Angier

My new PO Box is:
Heather Shaw
P.O. Box 13222
Berkeley, CA 94712-4222

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