Last night my thought process went completely haywire. I was lying in bed feeling very content and peaceful, but then I got up for a second to do something, and when I laid back down I felt really weird and unsettled. So the story goes, I wanted to fall asleep, but couldn't, so I just started thinking about dying, because that usually exhausts me. This time however, it was especially irrational, everything about it. But I just kept thinking about freaking out and killing myself, and how if it didn't work I would have to be institutionalized, and if that happened I would never ever ever ever get out of there. Ever. If I were ever to be put in a hospital like that, I would have to escape, because I don't think I would be that crazy, so in order to maintain sanity I would have to do crazy things, because that's how I work. Anyway, this was what I was thinking last night in bed. And I started

Later...

crying. So I made toast and put borrowed my brother's burnt copy of OK Computer and smoked a stolen cigarette out my window at seven in the morning. Then I decided it would be a good idea to think about pleasant things while attempting sleep, like my cat, and puppies, art, and Thom Yorke. But mostly Thom. Actually, I only thought about Thom. I wish I lived in my own house, so I could sit here typing and wash my pants at the same time. Because I'd be half naked. And I can't be that here. I like walking around half naked, but it usually involves no top. But I can't do that here either. Apparently my dad and mom can though, because whenever I get home at six am, they never have pants on. It's funny and awkward. I should sleep at my other house, but that's so far away always. I don't know. I- don't know. It's only 1:30 am, and I'm already home and about to prepare for bed, which means, take a hot bath, wrap this floral design sheet around my waist, and lie in bed for a few hours. And tonight it means avoid thinking about trying to die. I don't want to die. Really truly. But if I did, I suppose I'd have to know the right way to go about it, so that's what now is. What. Oh, Lamar says "hey." That's from Mr. Show. Tonight has been odd. Maybe that's why I'm home now. Today at "church job," I asked my secretarial boss what else I should do, and she said, "Let's go outside, and I'll tell you what to do next week." Which really meant, "Let's go chat over a cigarette." I said Okay. We talked about ovulation and breasts. It was seriously a blast. Then I told my mom I wasn't so sexually frustrated anymore. She got wide-eyed and asked why. I told her I fornicated, and she got even more wide-eyed. But then explained to me that fornication is more than kisses and "a reddish mark on the skin caused by amorous kissing," which I apparently didn't know. When I was a kid at Christian school, they told me that it could be as seemingly insignificant as holding hands. They lied to me! Either way it was a funny way of putting it. I showed her my hickey and she said, "OH! You can't even see that!" It was funny, because then she said, in the church mind you, "Well. I just don't want you *f.ucking*." I thought it was hilarious. I just about died. Today I've been listening to a lot of The Magnetic Fields and Tom Waits. Now I'm going to go listen to Ok Computer and lie in bed.