Thursday, Feb. 20, 2003/8:44 pm

faulty

People have become fuzzy outlines on the horizon, even if i scream they cannot here me. They mutter with their hands over their mouths and talk in fragmented sentences.

I have grey shadows under my eyes and strands of fallen hair all over the back of my jumper.

I accidently step out infront of cars and forget what i'm supposed to be doing.

I'm never really here.

Displaced where i don't belong.

I have been doing alot more coursework this week, somehow. I will be able to reach the English deadline now. Still, i find it so hard to concentrate. My pen may be touching the paper but my thoughts are stuck to the ceiling with super glue.

One biscuit is too much but several packets are not enough. I want to fill myself up to the brim but i also want to be empty and pure. I can't make up my mind, always stranded in the middle.

I won't ever be complete.

There are potholes and bullet marks forever punctured through my skin.

Unable to be stitched up or repaired.

Caught in this web of confusion like a helpless fly trapped by a spider, weak. Lost between supermarket shelves and broken bottles.

I can't see through the dark.