Short entry. Sassy wall. Fucked hand. You know.

I am definitely meeting with the play dude tomorrow. Um, today. Whatever. Slight case of nervousness. Possible breakfast with The Captain.

OK, so more drinking material....

You know you lust for the drama.

There's some shit that has been weighing on my brain and my heart for almost three years. Yeah, it has to do with K. I'll hook you up with a sandwich if you act surprised.

I've talked about him a lot. I've talked about how I feel about him a lot. But I haven't been completely, um, open.

With anybody.

Including him.

Why the fuck am I actually dreading telling a fucking DEAD person what went on in my head in the months before he died? I mean, I've written him letters that made me feel like all the blood had drained out of my body, but I strayed far away from THAT. I just kept repeating what I was most comfortable with and keeping THAT safely out of reach.

Yeah, I believe he can read the letters when I burn them. Fucking humor me, OK?

I couldn't even tell my best friend all of it.

Christ. I sound crazy. But it's like I need to just fucking let it all out and fuck me if I'm so ashamed of myself that I can't sleep or eat for days afterward. If I don't talk about it, it's just going to keep eating up my insides and I'll never get rid of this fucking guilt.

Or maybe it will just make things worse.

I dunno.

No cracking of the skull to ease the brainache tonight, though. I need sleep.

I'm indenting way too goddamn much.

And I think I'm going to puke. Yay!

Goodfuckingnight.

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