April 9th, 2002 - 8:47 p.m.

Really, do not ask me about it.

Am sleepy. But cannot sleep now. It is too early. Otherwise I would wake up at three in the morning. And pace the floors. Curl up into a ball. Bite the knuckles. Only to finally fall asleep at seven, and not wake up until post noonish. So shall try to remain awake. Shall try to enforce some type of sleeping pattern; police it into a state more similar to the norm.

Resolve is weak. Am falling into a foul mood. Bah.

�And I�ve been looking for a new friend. I don�t care if he�s decrepit and grey.�

I would like to preserve myself under yards and yards of plastic wrap; a human pupa. Buried under a willow tree. Years will pass. I will awaken, refreshed. Tear open the casing of the cocoon. Blinking to clear the dust. Fashion a dress out of the branches of the tree and plastic. Stretch and yawn. Walk back to the city. Enter my abandoned flat. Sit at the computer and tell you about it.

I am over-medicated.

N.

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