12:21 AM

I could have gone to Nicole’s but no, I wanted to be with Henry.  I just sat here trying to get close but he was frying and couldn’t stay still or concentrate enough to kiss.  We did kiss but I had to do it and he wasn’t into it at all.  Oh well, that was the acid, not him.  Damn Maury was there and gave me a ride home.  He’s such a fucking druggie.  He’s lost any sense of self-respect and will ask anyone for money.  So I gave him about two bucks.  Damn, anything to shut up his damn whining.  He’s so pathetic – like a stray animal you don’t want to take in but just stay the fuck away because it looks so terrible that it wold make you sick to see it too much.  I want Henry to call me.  He was so goofy nervous like figetey (Is that a damn word?) I could have also gone out with Laura, Deanna and Andy with Vidal.  They were only getting drunk though.  Maybe this is for the best, I do have to work tomorrow.  Why do I always mispell Houston?  [That is a true transcription of me misspelling "misspell" and spelling "Houston" correctly.]  Why does Laura always were tight, low-cut shirts?  And they’re also short – at the waist or usually above.  Boys are dumb.  Why do I like Henry?

7:08 AM

I was pleasant at 6 AM.  I’m so proud of myself.  Henry loves me.  I still want to kiss him for hours and hours.  Is that so wrong?  Does that make me a bad person?  Henry was telling me about how everything looked to him and he remembered he couldn’t stay still long enough to kiss (but of course he didn’t say so) me.  But god, I could kiss him for hours.  I’d like to press my body up against his and feel his heat.  But then does he even want to kiss me?  I mean he never makes the move.  But then there have only been two times thus far.  His hands are so small – his middle fingers are longer than mine but otherwise they’re the same size.  How sweet.  That’s very tiny.  But what he can do with a guitar, he could probably do to me.  His hands are soft and he holds so nicely.  Or perhaps he’s just human and I I think he’s more ’cause it’s been so long since I’ve touched anyone.  But he feels so different.  Fuck, I hate it when I start to write something and I’ve forgotten what my point was so I end up gibbering.  Can’t win ‘em all.  I saw his belly last night – he was laying on his side and his shirt rode up so that I, position below him, could see his belly.  It was kind of cute that I got to see.  Call me cray or loony or both.  I think things are going rather well.  I’m learning about myself (I am very impatient and rush head – or maybe it’s body – first into things usually.) and him. (He likes to test the waters several times and then still doesn’t get all the way in – I don’t think he’s even ankle-deep so far.)  This whole experience is going to be a great book (a la Bosom Buddies).  I wonder when Thrifty’s opens ’cause I have cash and I want to get a damn phone cord.  I’m just tired of not being able to go anywhere ’cause I’m on the damn phone.  Probably doesn’t open ’til 11 or so ’cause it’s Sunday and all.  I’m gonna get yelled at today ’cause I didn’t count down the cash drawer but signed it out anyway and also didn’t alarm anyone that my drawer was off over five dollars.  Oh well, I don’t care anymore.  Real job dedication (not).  Now I’m getting tired and I only have about an hour or so ’til I really have to be up.

10:58 PM

Why do I even bother having any days off?  I don’t do anything I have no life.  Shit.  And Henry’s not even home.  He should be waiting by the phone for me.  And I have to go to the bathroom but I’m out of toilet paper – again.  I could go buy some but I’m afraid Henry’ll call when I’m gone.  Fuck.  This isn’t fair.  Why do I have to wait around for him?  Why is he so fucking unpredictable?  Shit – he could be asleep, but I doubt it.  Well, he did stay up all night on acid but shit fuck I don’t know.  Why do I have to like him so much?  I just want him to touch me – I don’t think that’s too much.  I guess I should go to bed early on a Sunday night ’cause I don’t have to work tomorrow.  I wish I could find my remote control.  Maybe I should clean my sty.  Maybe I should tell Henry that I can’t deal with his shit.  Maybe if I had a car I could go over to his house when I felt like it.  He makes such a big production out of coming over here.  I guess that’s sweet and all.  Gosh this is depressing.  Laura went home to meet Vidal and get lucky.  No fair – she has a willing partner.  Could I cry.  I don’t like being alone so why am I always?  It’s just not fair.  But everyone else says that too so I know there are others like me.  Misery loves miserable company.  (Beth’s coinage.)  I’m so bored I don’t want to eat anything I have.  I can hear everything my neighbors are doing.  I don’t think they’re very loud during sex cause I would’ve heard them by now.  I guess I’ll take a shower and go to bed.  God, I have absolutely do damn life.  I want a car.  I want to see Henry.  I want to feel his warmth.  Is that too much to ask?  Apparently so.  Will I always be depressed?  I guess so.  Maybe I’ll clean my house tomorrow.  Shit, what  mess I could make if I had a place with more than one room.  This mess is actually kind of scary.  But I usually have the biggest problem with the kitchen and it’s not that messy.  I want to vacuum.  Yes it’s true.  After all the complaining about the Mad Vacuumer.

When I put the other journal of course I had to read some of my other stuff.  Erica shit – I was bad – had it bad.  Why do I do it to myself?  I was fine before I read that.  But it’s nice to know I won’t make the same mistakes again and it’s nice to

Just tried to call Shannon but she’s not home and Mary didn’t recognise my voice and thought I said Anne when I said my name.  Holy fuck.  Damn.  I need to know how I’m getting to NorCal.

know that the mind does block the actual painful feelings if not the memory of the event.  Fuck, now I’m depressed.  Everything is so different with Henry.  So much less painful.  This is actually nice.

I feel like calling Laura just to interrupt her and Vidal but that would be mean.  It would be a funny joke.  God I wish I could make myself stop thinking about some things.  I’ll just replace old thoughts with new.  Better.

Tags: Diary, idiot

Categories: Diary

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