Alone

It is in these lonely hours that I contemplate...too much thinking, too much soul, whirling emotions, and not enough people. I regret not getting up and going to the bar. At least then I could be alone in the crowd. Instead I slept, wanting to keep dreaming the strange dreams I did. In one dream I saw the dark-haired figure at the coffee shop, sitting with Mr. Blond and Evil Jay. "You're a sorceress," he kept saying and I kept telling him no. I was eating dinner with a family that hated each other. I was in the bar crying. I don't have anyone to really talk to execpt my imaginary friend James. He's the one who knows it all, including all of the stuff that I choose not to write about. I miss my pretty Kitty. I miss having a boyfriend to cuddle with and hold onto and tickle to death. Sometimes I feel desparate about that and actually, I am desparate about it. I want too much and it never happens. I hope it will. I just wish I was at the bar, listening to music, singing along with it, drinking. The other night I noticed my eyes in the mirror. Mirrors are bad when I'm drunk; I have a tendancy to stand in front of them and hate myself for being me and for being stupid and desparate. My eyes are nearly green. I have very little brown pigment left in them. Maybe if you wish hard enough, it'll happen, and boy do I wish hard. It's just one of those days and one of those nights. I feel dumb tonight so I guess it's okay that I'm not drinking. I wanted to go to my coffee shop and see if Mr. Blond was there but I made myself sleep instead. I did something dumb when I was a-smoking the crazy smoke and now I feel like a moron. Really, I do. I don't know why the crazy smoke makes me hallucinate, it's not supposed to...the whole world becomes surrealistic, like night is day and lights are strange and I see figures pointing out where I should go. I should have known better...only smoke my crazy smoke, it's better that way, and I don't feel like a moron or do anything stupid when I do. I'm feeling odd again...I know too many people and it's making me crazy but I can't stay at home because I'm a zillion times lonelier there than I am if I am out. The collection of souls around me drives me to distraction but I know that I can't stop collecting souls. Why is it that I am simultaniously a loner and charasmatic? Why do I have people surround me like the proverbial moths to the fire? I am not different, I am not special, I am not unique, I am not anything but one person, yet people still want my presence. But then the people I want to be around aren't always there, and I, I am always afraid of abandonment. I'd rather run away first. But I don't want to run away. I want to stay. It gets so confusing being alone with my whirlwind of thoughts. I don't know anymore but I still care. I care about everything except myself. Why should I care? I'm just another person, human being, scourge of the planet. So what I can't drive home after bar time? What does it matter that I die and take a few frat boys with me? I don't care. They don't care either, not really, otherwise they wouldn't be so stupid. I want someone to tell me no. I want someone to care enough about me to really think I should remain around a few more years. But it doesn't happen that way. It doesn't happen that way because I am a master liar and can lie my way out of anything if need be. I'm tired of lying about driving home. But the thing of it is, if I don't, then I feel like the world's biggest nuisance and I have no right to be drinking if I can't at least be able to get home. Sometimes I confuse myself.

I really have to stop taking myself seriously. Really. It's getting a bit silly.