Friday, April 16, 2004

Friday - 10:08 pm - I'm on my way, home sweet home.

Yeah baby, the Xanex kicked in and I longer think I am going to try really hard not to drive off that bridge on the way home tonight.

I bet I wont even think about it.

Why are humans one of the few animals that commit suicide?

What makes me think about it soooo often?

I even have a minor plan. I want to rent a car before I drive off that bridge because it would be a shame to waste my car. Why cant I feel the same way about my life?

These two guys tried to kidnap me once, but I completely fought them off. All 5'1" of me and @ 115 lbs. They even had a gun. I was scared, but I was way more angry. I just kept thinking "You fucking assholes are ruining a perfectly good Sunday for me". They were amateurs, but it is still nerve wracking when a gun is pointed at you. It was pointed at my ample behind and I wondered how much it would hurt to get shot in the ass.

The one w/o the gun was saying over and over "If you don't get in the car we are going to kill you bitch". But I knew damn well that if I did get in my car, and they also managed to, I would probably be taken into the woods (I lived in Virginia where they actually exist) raped, and then killed. I figured my chances were better in a mall parking lot in broad daylight.

I just kept saying, over and over again "Leave me fuck alone you god-damn mother fuckers. Just go away and leave me the fuck alone you fucking assholes" and many variations of the same. I was proud that I turned out to be the lion type and not the lamb time.

It's funny. I have lived in some pretty bad ghettos and when I go to the ritzy mall, I become a crime victim for the first and so far only time. Go figure. It did take a good 6 months for the paranoia to diffuse. About 3 minutes changed the next 6 months - damn I got lucky.

I am pretty, not fat but curvaceous, and intelligent. I am financially better off than most, have the most wonderful loving parents, fiance, and pets.

Yet these thoughts still keep coming into my head. I cant seem to be able to drive them out. I feel like I need a permanent vacation from life sometimes. Usually I wish that I could become seriously injured just for the time off work. That and I like Vicodin.

But if makes me vomit if I don't get to smoke and I bet they wont let me smoke in a hospital so that's no good.

I promised my self that I was going to try to focus on the good in these "pages" from now on. Not doing too good so far. It is just therapeutic to get rid of all my self-destructive thoughts on "paper". Really, after talking about it, I do feel better.

Dooce recently posted about her bouts with severe postpartum depression. Reading her entries one would never have though that she was suffering so badly. I love reading her stuff. It is so funny and witty. I figured if she can feel so bad, and yet not let it show in her writing then I should try it. It seems like a really good idea.

"Saving one animal won't change the world, but it will change the world for that one animal."