Journal Excerpts

The back of my neck has never felt so cold. I splashed warm water over my face and nearly choked on the sudden comfort of it. My neck feels colder in it's comparison.

Heavy fog floats perfectly still between tree trunks and parked cars. A bird flits to a higher limb that sinks to its weight disturbing the smokey fog before the bird takes flight again. There is light but no sun.

I'm so sick of the same music always playing. I'm so sick of the same damn TV shows. Tired of feeling so bored of everything around me. Tired of waiting for something to get excited over.

Brave scenarios play in my head over and over again. They're exciting and new. It's easy pretending but depressing to know at the end of the day I'm still just as chicken shit as I ever was.

"You're supposed to feel..."
You suppose me to feel?
Fuck off.

I've been sending letters to my cell mate twice a week. She's never responded. It's almost like she doesn't exist. Or like I never existed there. It's really weird to feel so disconnected and there's no way to know anything about that world. Not that I should care. But I do and I don't know why.

I've got both hands in my pockets. What the hell, Alanis?