Joel's girlfriend, Sarah, was bearing his child. She was due any day. It hadn't been planned, but they were intensely excited. They'd decided on the name Gabriel Roy for a boy but hadn't yet chosen a girl's name; he said that his sister Taleia was hounding him to pass on her name if he had a daughter. I heard them discussing their plans to move into Sarah's one-bedroom loft. I overheard all these talks while sick with despair and jealousy. This was, after all, another first I could have shared with him, had I not stupidly let him go—now just another first he was sharing with somebody else, to no longer be available to me ever again.

Once, catching Joel alone briefly, I snapped, "You DO realize that next week, all of this"—I waved my arm around, attempting to include all the positive aspects of his single life, his life before children, being free to be with his friends at will . . . and, perhaps, myself—"will be gone, and you will be a father forever, right?" He hadn't been looking at me. He didn't still. I stared hard at his profile, his very light blue eyes looking off into the distance, lost. He didn't smile. He said, after a pause, "Yes."

One day, the happy couple, my mother and I were in my yard in Keswick. They three were planning a speed-boating trip; the boat was already hitched to a station wagon, and they were about to depart. They got to chatting about the baby again, and I couldn't handle it anymore. I screamed at Sarah that I hoped the baby was born dead, and ran off. Now alone, I lay in the grass crying hard for several minutes, then began to feel obligated to apologize. I felt this way not because I didn't wish for what I'd said, but because I didn't want a rift in my relationship with Joel. The damage was done, though. When I came out of hiding, the three of them were up in a tree-house, discussing how awful I'd been. Sarah was crying, black eye makeup running down her face.

I waited until they came down. I cried that I was sorry. I was met only by Sarah's tearful face and a look from Joel, surprisingly lacking in anger or sternness; mostly it teemed with disappointment and pity, a "How could you?" look crossed with a "Look at what you've become; look what you've sunk to. I should have known" look. My mother got into the car; the parents-to-be boarded the boat. I cried after them that I was sorry, pleaded that they let me explain, but their backs turned to me, and the car towed them out of my line of sight.

I'm in another of those moods tonight where I just wish I would drop dead. Nah... that wouldn't accomplish anything I want done. But living hurts, more than it has in a good chunk of time. These moods have been coming over me again as of late. Relapses. I was doing so well. This is not me - I hate this.

do you miss me late at night,
when the world and your body are calm,
and your arms are empty,
or curl around a pillow?

I don't think I'll post here anymore. I've just been pasting here whatever I've written in my LiveJournal for the day. Plus, one of the two things I've been staying here for, I figured out how to do well enough for my liking with the LiveJournal. (The only other thing that sucks about LJ, aside from the frequent down-time, is the system of archiving past entries.)

Anyway, find me there. Ciao (even if just for now), folks.

Default comes to town on Sunday. Tickets go on sale that day. I'm thinking of going. I've never been to a concert before, and they're not bad; worth the ticket price, at least. Meh, it would get me out of the house.

Bedtime, now.

I'm thinking of abandoning this blog. If you don't find me updating here often in the near future, look for me at my LiveJournal.

Adam wants me to change, and Joel doesn't want me at all. I wish I was good enough for humanity the way I am. I'm not even good enough to die in my sleep. My leg is bleeding, and there is blood under my nails. I ought to suffocate, suffer... bleed to death. Hold your goodbyes. You didn't care when I was here.

I beat Nemesis. Worship me.

I bowled a strike tonight! My first strike ever. Yay!

Okay. Here in Canada, we have M&Ms. But we also have M&Ms without the Ms; they are called Smarties. Recently, I was eating ice-cream flavoured Smarties. Obviously, the concept being, different coloured Smarties are artificially flavoured to taste like corresponding ice-cream flavours. The red ones are strawberry, the yellow, banana sorbet, there are these caramel-coloured ones that look like spotted shit but taste like caramel, and so on.

Guess what flavour the brown ones are? (Yes, there are brown Smarties.)

Oh, yeah. Chocolate! Who'd have thought, chocolate-flavoured chocolate.

I laughed for a pathetically-long amount of time.

Ugh... sometimes, when I have a headache, I pour too many painkillers into my palm, and I'm tempted to swallow them all... just to see what would happen.

$!#%@$*@%AARGGGH. I wish I weren't so stupid and jealous.