Built like houses in the seventies, 

born to self-destruct in messages.

I dreamt of you and me swimming. 

Your shivering, a little bit shy. 

We're only seventeen forever 

for a moment. I'm breathing like a boy, 

full of you.

a few nights ago i couldn't sleep and i was thinking about how although i have gotten progressively uglier since i first started sleeping with people, the level of attractiveness of the people i've been sleeping with has gotten steadily higher. i don't know whether i should feel good about this or not

"we met in the ocean. i was swimming and he came out to me in a canoe."

"I am in harmony
with my annihilation"

i remember sitting in the smoking area of a bar last night with one of my good friends and telling her that i knew it was going to be like this because it always is and i never learn. i don't take my pills for a day and i feel fine so i think, oh, i'll just take them tomorrow, and then it's tomorrow and i forget to take them again and this goes on for a week or so and i know it's stupid and dangerous but i feel so good that i manage to convince myself that i can do this, i can function like a normal person without medication. and then i'll wake up a day or two later and everything has changed and the idea of feeling like i did before is literally unimaginable. it has the same impact as i imagine driving head first into a brick wall would, it absolutely ruins me. and yesterday i was fine but today i am not. happy new year.

last night was strange and i didn't kiss any of the people i wanted to kiss and one of my friends said something so hurtful to me and i felt fine with it at the time because i'd drunk perhaps a litre of gin but today i'm sober and i feel terrible. i don't know what to do with myself. i want to get blind drunk or just sleep for a long time. i have a 6000 word paper to write tomorrow but i don't know how i'm going to be able to concentrate on it when everything feels so black. god, one of those days where the future seems like a specific type of torture. i wish life was easier.

all i'm going to do today is read georges bataille and feel sorry for myself

the idea that things heal is bullshit. i can think about something small and seemingly insignificant that happened years ago and still feel the weight. i have never moved on. i will never be able to willingly detach myself from my life - the only time that detachment has ever happened has been during depressive episodes where i finally wake up and weeks have passed and i can't separate my dreams from reality. it happens with a frequency that astounds me. and it scares me, and i feel like a coward. and i watched secretary a few days ago and i didn't realise that so much of the story involved the pain we inflict on ourselves vs the pain we allow others to inflict on us, a contrast i'd never even considered before. when maggie gyllenhaal turns up at james spader's house after their relationship has been established and she bangs on the glass door and she's crying and she's trying to say something to him but all that comes out is "i want, i want" - i know exactly what she was trying to say, i want you to hurt me. not, i want you to help me or hold me or stay with me. i want you to hurt me, because sometimes that's the only acceptable way. and who is saved, who is healed?