Let me be
October 03, 2004, 9:46 a.m.

My birds have yet to give up on pregnancy. Every morning and afternoon, the male mounts the female, and does the little birdy nookie. This is so disturbing to me on so many levels. Watching birds have sex is terribly weird, and augmented by the fact that the two are brother and sister.

Make way for the wide-eyed retarded baby.

I can't count how many tears I shed yesterday. I do know, however, that the final cry before I fell asleep took the last of my tears for a good while, and I was left convulsing from the dry, tearless sobs.

For now, though, I am devoid of all emotion. I feel no happiness, no sadness, and no shades of gray. Indeed, it is reflected upon this entry, which reveals no real emotion which one can dream of. I'd say I am sorry, but at the moment I could care less for you or anyone else.

Please, please don't call me and ask me if I'm all right, unless you enjoy listening to a dial tone.

Today, I am doing what I do every Sunday, though I can't say I'm exited. I do love Pi, and I enjoy his company, but today is a day I want to sleep away under my comforter, which offers little comfort, despite its name.

I wish to close my eyes and drift into a dream world where everything is all right. It doesn't matter what kind; I can ascend from a nightmare, and know that it wasn't real, and that I am still okay. But I can't awake from reality, and so I wish to hide from it, to hide from everyone and everything.

I feel like that stuffed animal that, no longer loved, is abandoned in the dusty corner, where it looks on, waiting to be consumed by a child's tight squeeze.

But right now, Teddy doesn't want to snuggle, rather, to wallow in his own despair.

Ta-ta.

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