April 11th, 2002. - 5:10 a.m.

Have I ever made sense before?

In an odd state of inbetween. Ought to be asleep. Seeping under the doors. Like luke warm air. Drags along the floor, glides like a panther, it does.

I cannot call this neutral.

I cannot call this much at all. It is as if I am fully aware of what could happen, but I do not comprehend.

I need utter euphoria. Or congesting tension. Some extreme. I am too much.

If only I could... no, that would not be feasible. Half baked thoughts. Soggy and undercooked on the inside. Dripping their undistinguishable centres.

Should listen to J., listening to someone else, "Its just best to go to bed". So off I go to sleep.

N.

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