Ah, what a weekend. No rain, lots of clouds. At least there were clouds. All the sunshine was depressing me.

Spent most of my day yesterday crying or sleeping. This no medication thing is just not working for me, I can't function by myself on that one. And that depresses me even more, because I hate to admit that I can't handle things. You know, that whole I'm an independent, forward thinking person who doesn't need any thing or any one kind of facade that I like to pretend I have.

As I live at home, in a van by the river off government cheese.

How sadly and apprehensively we fall, face first into reality.

I wrote a poem about that once, too.

"I want to run to the edge of the world/and fling myself off the cliffs of reality."

I do, in a way. I feel so stuck lately, and every way I turn to move, I find a wall of my own constructing. Have I really dug myself into this pit? Do I still have the shovel? I wish I could dig some footholes.

Maybe someday I will. Maybe I'm just comfy in my little hole.

Do you know what it is, that feeling, where you stop caring because you care so much? Where you're forever running away because you don't know how to stop? Like your whole life is just constant swerving because you have no brakes?

The thing about running away, is no matter how far and how hard and how fast you run, you're always stuck with yourself.

Andrea wants a filter between her brain and her mouth. I want a filter between my brain and my brain.

I'm going on a quiet holiday to my friend Sue's house for a fortnight. To get some quiet, and some alone. And we shall watch Jeeves & Wooster, and we will have Chinese tea parties. And I am going to write a play.

The thing is, Sue's house is a block away from mine. So don't worry. I'll still be around here.