April 27th, 2002. - 1:39 a.m.

This feeling is bound to become ravenous.

Stress, causes tension back ache, causes nausea, causes headache, causes inability to be logical, causes jumpiness, causes snappishness.

Sigh.

This is too much. Much too much. And is sure to shorten the life span. I think this ought to be a good time to commit myself.

Off I go! Watch! Look at me! As I go that way! And this way! And that way again!

I think martyrdom would have been best. Too late now. The only time public suffering for a cause would have been acceptable. But the outcome would have been awful. And worth it? Je ne sais pas. Worth is such an odd concept. But then, most concepts of words are odd.

Am in need of romance. And tenderness. And pity; yes pity above all. But, nothing will be enough. The cavern has been much too corroded by water and time. Instead, am left with the last resort of making jest of this predicament. The systematic method of making the heavy, light. Of choking back tears and laughing half heartedly.

"Given time, everyone's life span shortens to zero."

N.

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