Oct. 20, 2003 @ 11:38 p.m.

To put it simply, all I want to do is scream. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?” I am being hunted down like a hound dog rushing to the bird as it falls from the sky. The rains of a thousand years could never make the soil soft enough for my face to go unaltered on the plopping of gravity’s equaling at impact and forever more. I was warned of danger, told me to turn around, that pain lurked in the murky waters surrounded by swamps and moss covered trees. I was told, “Dangerous” and I didn’t listen. The insides of my swollen chest cavity burn a lot like Hiroshima did in 1941. I can see myself, standing in a beautiful meadow, arms crossed, head held high with my face wearing a smirk, grinning like a mad character from Alice in Wonderland or something as equally off balance from reality. Then it hits and I am gone, left settling there is nothing but a cloud of dust that no longer resembles me in any way, not even by smell, taste, or touch. No logical sense recognizes me for what I was, but only sees me as my state of chemical change. She’s finding me and I can’t run away fast enough. And I was never good at hide and seek. Maybe as it eats me, I will realize it’s just a sick joke being played on me by one of my friends and we’ll hug, smoke a pack or two, filling the ashtray twice and emptying every bottle in the place. But it’s not likely. I was never wrong about this.