OK, I'm gonna do this. I have to do this, if for no other reason, just to do this, to prove I can do this. Why do I play these games and puzzles with myself? Why don't I do what I mean, and mean what I say, and shut up and say nothing? Why is everything shrouded in symbolism or allegory or metaphor or double meanings. I'm not in a fucking movie. Maybe I am schizophrenic. But no, I'm not, I can function, I can tell the difference. Even though when I left my apartment this morning I wasn't about to get on my bike to go to work and give notice. In my mind, I was locking my apartment one last time and head for the beach, and it was just past midnight with the sun rising in the east. I can tell the difference, but it's just some times the barrier between the emotions of my different realities run excruciatingly thin. If I'm just going to work, I shouldn't be having this feeling. Hang on, here goes the roller coaster over the top. Smile and get ready to scream. And smile and scream I will. You have no idea. This isn't hard. This is just a job. But this job isn't unbearable. I can do this. Other people have left because it was unbearable. So why am I doing this? But how would I know if it was unbearable? I'm numb to my whole experience. Isn't that, after all, why I have to prove every once in a while that I can feel, and that the sight of blood is something to fear. What the hell does that have to do with this? Nothing, it's not even right. This isn't about bearable, this is about kicking the comfort and stability that my privileged upbringing has afforded. I don't have it bad at all, in fact I don't have any problems, so go to hell. Leaving life while you're trying to live it is far preferable to floating through it just because it's there. I have a feeling this isn't the last time I'm going to write this entry. . . . alright, I just needed to get that out of my system. *whew* Now I really sound nuts, I'm sure. Here I go. Bravo. Let's get connected. Into the scree, Rael!