This was written the day before I turned eighteen. The day before I lost my virginity.

3/11/1997

If only this tainted body would die

Thaw and replenish itself into dew

Oh that God had not aimed his will against suicide

How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable this world is to me.

It is an unweeded garden that harvests only what is rank and gross in nature

These are the only fruits produced

Only two months dead not even that much

not even he so great a king was a God to a lustful deity that loved my mother so well

That he might allow death to take her.

I don't want to remember how she clung to him

as if her need for him grew the closer she got

Like Nietzsche, she cried constantly that she a woman had no right to let go.

Needless to say, I found little in common with the other kids in high school. Probably because I never make any fucking sense. What do you think?

For more depression, bookmark this site and check it frequently.

In other news, I overheard my boss talking about me to another publicist. The other publicist, who does all the good bands at Warner Brothers said that he liked me and my boss AGREED (of all things) and said that I am very sweet but kind of timid. I couldn't hear what he said right after that but then he said, "so, I guess it's because she's kind of an intellectual."

Boy have I got him fooled.

26 September 2002 - 11:40 PM

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