Sober now,
I'm cold
Alone
I'm just a person
On my own
Nothing means a thing to me
Oh, nothing means a thing to me.


Kay's Choice, I'm not an addict is the only MP3 on my playlist, and I have it on continuous play.

I'm just read an e-mail I wrote to jeff.....a really fucking long time ago. Beside the part where I talked about Derek, it pretty much all still applies. Except that still doesn't seem to imply- I was happy between then and now. I just no longer am.

I'm gonna include the whole thing cause emily says, and is right, that I'm too lazy to edit or re-explain. If Jeff, or the others mentioned in it, has a problem with me doing this, they can tell me....well, elorza can anyway. But elorza never SEEMS to have a problem with anything.



Subj: "Sober now/ I'm cold, alone/ I'm just a person/ On my own"
Date: 03/04/2001
To: Jeff

"Kay's choice. "I'm not an addict."
There is no bad time for this song.

It starts out talking about either pot or crack, I'm thinking it's pot though because it seems to be innocent enough, in a gateway drug sort of way. And people who don't believe that pot is a gateway drug need to blow me and FUCKING like it.
I ever told you that the reason Andrew, my ex-best friend, ever was my best friend was because he told me he was going to do ecstasy and I decided that I couldn't take caring about him when I knew he was going to do that himself: I couldn't stop him, and I could not have dealt with worrying about him. He took this as a sign that I cared about him more than most people who have never talked with the use of their voices care about each other, and took the fact that he didn't want me to stop talking to him as a sign that he cared about me as much.
He doesn't think ecstasy will be detrimental to him because all of his friends who do it say it's fine, not addictive, not dangerous, and he trusts them. They don't know what I've found out from research: Ecstasy destroys the part of your brain that lets you feel, gradually.
It's been about nine month since Andrew became everything to me through his plans to do X, and he is still planning to do it. He is no longer definitively my best friend, and I have lost the ability to let myself think about how much I love him- I will not feel the loss anymore.

Ecstasy destroys the part of your brain that lets you feel, gradually.


Someday I will understand the symbolism. I'll know the moral. I'll be able to explain it in a way that others will be affected by it, and comprehend it, and learn from it. For now, it just sorta makes me think.

I just punched a wall. It fucking hurts.



I hate drugs.


The funny thing is, before I put on this song, this e-mail wasn't meant to be bitching about what the availiability of mind-altering substances has done to innocent bystanders like me. "Innocent victims is an outmoded idea- if you live on this planet your guilty, that's it, fuck you, next fucking case." Yeah. The point is that I'm not looking to take away your little escape, or maybe I am, but that wasn't on my agenda. I just hate my life right now.

In between paragraphs I just started crying and I really couldn't tell you why. Scratch that, I started sobbing. I don't actually cry anymore, I no longer possess the physical ability. There are only three things that have made me cry in maybe the past 6 months- the thought of my and Andrew Elorza's relationship, the thought of my and Andrew Lunt's relationship, and the rememberance of my dog. Possibly my father, once. But I can't cry anymore, for the most part. Maybe once every two weeks or so, where it used to be several times a day. They say that's the last stage of moderate depression. Then you go onto that stage where you lay in bed all day and do nothing.........bring it on, I guess. I hate my family, I hate school, the only thing in life I'm living for is the fabulously fantastic five. Not even my dreams anymore, I've pretty much come to the conclusion that I'll never have the motivation. I don't think I really want the motivation. It's all about the fabulously fantastic five....and Derek.

Derek Gierhan. Drummer of Triangle Sleep, the band I believe I described to you as being spiritual for me last time I was at your house. I've been talking to him online lately....a lot. While I'm trying to persue....some romantic scenario with him, he's proved impossibly important to me as a friend, while I've only considered him one for maybe a week. Less, I think. The fabulously fantastic five is...fabulously fantastic, but I don't really talk to you guys about what I'm feeling. Emily's one of the happy people and could never understand, Jeremey's one of those friends who needs me when he needs me and has no clue how to help or listen, Andrew Elorza....I don't need to need him, to be vulnerable there, he's only good for me about a fourth of the time....less, much less, and I don't really trust Andrew Lunt yet, especically when he keeps giving me reasons not too. You're my best resort for bitching, but you're going through so much more than me right now. I don't mean for that to sound...well, I don't want it to obligate you, trust me, I'm better when I'm helping than needing help. Either way, I've sort of exhausted my bitching rights to the fab-fan-five.

Yesterday I smashed my sister's keyboard on the wall. That sentence creates the impression that the keyboard was, in fact, broken, when in truth I was probably more damaged by the incident by it, but I don't want to belittle the feeling I had by expressing it with a sentence like "I picked up her keyboard and sort of tapped the wall with it, which hurt my finger". It was a good hard hit, it's just a damned resilient keyboard. I had a mini-mental breakdown, anyway, that was the point. And when I was done smashing things, I wrote to Derek...because, who else? I never actually finished the e-mail because Emily called halfway through and came over and I dry-sobbed in her general direction for a while. I'm not really making sense anymore but my point probably has something to do with the fact that I've known him for a week and sometimes I feel like he's all I have left. That's probably something really awful to write in an e-mail to someone whose an obvious place for me to turn...but....hey, your a writer, you understand. I feel everything, very little of it is rational and less is permanent.

I'm just a person on my own.



Maybe I should be trying this drug shit, huh?

"It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive"


I don't feel dead, I just feel like life is a trap....I want out so badly.
...and my father is in the other room playing music by the Everly Brother's that is on the movie "Bye, Bye love", a movie about fathers and daughters that makes me cry every time because I do not have one, despite the fact that there is a guitar playing and a voice sining in the other room that should be the voice of the man I could call Daddy.....

I have a phone call.


damnedly,
Linda"



yeah....that's pretty much accurate. Life is kinda shit.

My name is Linda and I'm not an addict, but that's probably the only thing right with me. On with it.