Oh. This morning was not a good one. So tired. So aching. All over. Felt like I had to twist and turn to unlock my spine. So tired. So giving up. I don't know how much longer I can do it. I'm losing interest and will by the day.

What the world needs now is love sweet love.

It's not good. Every tired bone in my body screams "don't go, fuck that place, just stay home". The same thing they've always screamed no matter where I've had to get up and go in the morning. And it's not because it would be so horrible to quit that place. I mean losing that "job" wouldn't in itself be a disaster. It's just a cushy job training thing with no pay. Somewhere for society to put me and hope things get better. To see if I can handle it. And that's the real problem. If I can't handle 4 hours a day, 5 minutes from where I live. Then how will I ever be able to handle anything resembling a real job? It's not that job I care about losing. It's what it would mean for my future. If I can't do that then realistically I can't do anything. Then I'll be stuck in the house forever. And the really bad thing is that my bones are screaming for exactly that. To just be left alone forever.

Maybe I should just pull myself together. Be a man. Stop whining. Quit my lazy ways and comit myself to doing a good job. Blah. But for every day that goes by I hate that place more and more and more. Even though it's a great place. Most of the time there aren't too many people. There's no pressure. I can practically do nothing all day if I want. And I still can't bear the thought every morning, that I have to go there.

It's just the depression talking. But it's hanging over me like a cloud again. Wrapped in its blanket.

And that's why I've been skipping days, been sick, been going home too early. Because I have a desire to be fired. I don't even know if it's possible to be fired from there. I'm not technically hired I think. Whatever. Bent mentioned it to me today. "You have to tell us if you leave. Yesterday you just disappeared". Yes. I have to tell you if I suddenly feel like the walls are caving in and I can't breathe and I need to get out out out. Just fire me and get it over with. Then we can all see that I'll never have a chance to become a worthwile contributing member of society. Then it'll look much more realistic that I'll end up the old virgin living at home leaving suicide notes online. Seriously. If I wasn't such a coward then that would be a lot more realistic than me getting a real job. Never let go, never give up.

If you search for Zwan on google my diary comes up as the 8th thing. I'm at the forefront of the Zwan revolution. And if you ask Google for pages similar to plume one of the results is the official pumpkins site. It all adds up. Billy needs to call me.

And I care a lot more about google searches than getting a life. Yeah. I try to tell myself (and others. sorry) that I want it. But I don't know if I feel it. What kind of future is there anyway?

I don't know. There's none at the barn. When my first period ends then they won't want to keep me. If I last that long. They gave me an xmas present today though. That was nice. Finn came in to the computer room and handed it to me.

Nicely wrapped. It turned out to be... a personal time manager calendar thingie. It's the thought that counts. I have no life or time to manage. But it looks all pretty on the inside.

Nice of them to get me something I guess. Surprised me anyway. It's not like I talk to anyone else than Peter. Barely. I'm nothing more than a ghost crawling along the walls trying to avoid eye contact with them all.

Yes yes. Tired of life. Don't ask me what my greatest wish is. Unimportant. It's not like I'll cure aids, kill bin laden, get a nobel prize. In a 100 years I'll be dust just like you. We'll all be the same in the end. Maybe if diaryland doesn't die these words will be all that's left. Think about that when you update your diary next. It might be your only chance of immortality. One day we'll all have diaries and instead of talking we'll read about each other's lives. They could make a graveyard sections. Yes, I knew him. He didn't cure aids at all. He wasn't even close.

Blahdiblah. It's hard to look at the big picture when the small one always pushes itself down on you.

It was appropriately grey, grey, grey when I walked home. With a head ache and still so tired. I took a nap. I feel like taking another. I feel like spending the day in bed. The week in bed. I feel like moving the computer next to my bed and staying there until they've cured aids.

Never let go never give up.

Maybe I should go to the doctor and ask why I'm always tired. Why my mood swings. But then no one wants answers they don't like. And I still have that unopened medicine lying somewhere in my room.

I know my mood will swing away from depression soon enough. But I'll still hate the mornings, the going, the tiredness, the peopleness. I will still be wondering if now is the time to smash my face through the window to get to go home early.

I am a pathetic apathetic drama king in all my glory. Glorious.

And other people will turn around and laugh at you. If you say.. that these are the best days... of our lives...

...And then I look in my hotmail spambox and see this:
Get Restful Sleep! - Stop Snoring With Snorgon!

They're mocking me.

Djali holds the hands of god.

and you don't even know it all

np: zwan - the empty sea (011121)