August 10, 2002
stepping back into my comfort zone
I finally got around to designing a new template. I artwork was done by Daniel Martin Diaz, who I have linked at the bottom of the page, but the design is my own. I�m pretty happy with it. Of course, I�ve only seen it on this computer so I suppose it could look positively ghastly on yours.. if so let me know?
Last night was wonderful. A night of excess full of good friends and good conversations. I talked and danced and drank and smoked. I sat on a balcony for hours and made a few new friends. I played with a kitten and mended an old friendship of sorts and watched confused bits and pieces of French puppet porn..
I stumbled through the front door at 5:30 a.m. and went to sleep happy and exhausted. I did what I set out to do. I had the kind of night I hoped to have. There�s a certain satisfaction in that.
And none of it matters. Not to me. Not right now. Sometimes it feels as though the price of an hour or evening of enjoyment is a day or two of depression. It�s almost as if my mind, emotions, spirit are compensating for the foreign feeling of happiness by throwing me into that old comfortable place. And you know, if I was ever happy for more than a few hours, I don�t think I�d know what to do with myself. I think I�d feel lost.
This morning Dash told me that he feels sorry for me because I�m always so sad. He said that it�s not pity, it just makes him feel bad. He couldn�t give me any further explanation. I told him that I hate that he feels that way. I probably shouldn�t, but I do. I don�t want anyone to feel bad for me. It undermines everything I try to be � everything I cherish about myself. It reduces me and makes me seem harmless and weak. How could I not despise that? You can hate me. Fear me. Love me. Lust after me. Find me exasperating, pretentious or hardheaded, but don�t feel bad for me, never feel bad for me.
11:22 p.m.