I'm dead tired, but afraid to sleep any more. I had too many awful dreams. In one, Adam raped me; in another, he held my face, whispered that I was beautiful, and kissed me so softly, then pulled away and, looking into my eyes with hardened gaze, said, See? It's easy to lie.

In yet another, we were walking along my street when he cheerfully announced that he'd had sex last night, in such-and-such named position. I started crying, and reminded him loudly that I'd told him multiple times I didn't want to hear that sort of shit. Six nearby thugs heard us fighting and threatened to beat us up. I called them stupid assholes, and they chased us into my house. I locked the doors. When I turned around, Adam wasn't there. I looked outside to see him in a white car with a red-haired girl, going up the street, towards town.

The last worthy of mention was one in which we lay in bed together, and my hand mistakenly brushed something I ought not to be touching. He moaned, though, and started grinding into it. Of course I wanted it, but, torn between my desires and my conscience, I let the latter win after a few seconds, and pulled away. He looked at me, angrily. Said, I suppose you're going to hold this over my head now. I said, No. I won't tell her. Then, thought, I'm getting used to keeping your secrets.

All dreams... all suckyass. I won't think about them long enough to perhaps determine meanings.

Adam's at work, I think, but not online. Barf. The thing I hated most about the dreams was waking from them, cold, sweating, heart pounding, alone. I wanted him there, to soothe me back to sleep as he always did when I'd have a bad dream - wrap his arms around me, bury his face in my neck, whisper "Shhh...." But he was always gone. Just like in the dreams. And so, that little constant bit of the dreams remained reality.

I warned him that getting sex today doesn't mean everything is better. He told me he wouldn't get it, anyway. Apparently he injured "himself" in one of their previous escapades. I don't believe that would stop him, despite his protests to the contrary. Sounds like he might just be saying what he thinks I want to hear, again. (sigh) It's okay, it's okay. You don't have to tell, and you don't need to hide.

Don't I have anything else to talk about? Yeah... but, it doesn't belong here.

I'm going to be stranded here at home all day, I think, with my brother, my dad, no car and no mom.