my journey: i talked to donna on the phone around 2 (she's in california), and she encouraged me to leave before c. got off work. she said, "don't let any thought into your head that doesn't have to do with leaving." so i got off the phone and robotically got my things and went outside and stood at the bus stop. i went downtown and had a miserable time... drank some coffee and read a magazine, wandered aimlessly, trying to feel something

i walked up burnside to washington park and sat at a bench looking out over all of portland. i felt nothing. i stared into space for about an hour and a half without moving. then i left to call donna. she told me to call her every few hours. i was looking for a payphone by couch park and noticed that the door to a school was open, so i went in.. some kind of assembly was going on. graduation? talent show? lots of cheering and singing.

anyway, i talked to donna while looking at the dusky abandoned hallway lined with lockers. suddenly the assembly was over and kids burst out, about 14 years old, all screaming. one girl kept jumping up and down screaming "we're in HIGH school now, we're in HIGH school!" it was jarring. i left and wandered to a coffee shop, where i called c. and got him to pick me up, because it was late and i was tired.

this is the point where my brain started having convulsions. i'll just do it. do it do it do it. give in. no, i won't do it. i'll just do it tonight. no, i won't. i really thought i would, too. i knew he was shooting up in the next room and i called him and he wouldn't answer. i hate it when he tries to hide it. so i left and went home and lay in donna's bed crying and hugging her stuffed cat, Fred. while i was crying i tried to convince myself that it was better to be miserable than to feel nothing.

then i took some catapres that c. gave me a while ago. i don't know what it's supposed to do, but i figured taking some other drug is better than doing dope. i am really, truly surprised that i didn't do any. the past 3 days i had intended not to do it but did anyway. that kind of compulsion feels so fucking good. the more i try not to do it the better it feels when i do.

"i don't want to do it today. i really don't. i won't do it, i don't have to. i won't do it. i won't do it i won't do it, no, i'll just do it once. just tonight. just right now. i'll just do it now before i have time to think about it. ...." and the crushing relief.

but right now, i seem to have crossed some kind of line. i'm less miserable now than i was before. i wonder if i'll feel better or worse tomorrow. maybe i can just decide to feel better.

what i kept telling donna was: the reason it's so hard is not because i want it so much, or because i feel so awful. i can deal with any level of mental anguish, i've done it before. but what if you know one thing that will make you feel completely better, and you aren't supposed to do it, and all the reasons you shouldn't be doing it make you feel sick with guilt. it's completely circular, a catch-22. i never thought about this problem before. i thought i'd dealt with the worst kind of pain, and i had, but the only good thing about pain is that there is no cure. once there's a cure you're fucked.

but we won't think about that anymore, right Fred? Fred is donna's beloved threadbare stuffed animal that is supposedly a cat but looks more like an anteater. Fred likes to hump Mousey, donna's other extremely threadbare stuffed animal. actually, all her stuffed animals have very active and imaginitive sex lives, especially when dave was living with us.

if i'm not hanging out with c, and donna's not here, i have no friends. not even one person. i'm going to go to sleep holding onto Fred and he's going to be my friend. i'll take him on dates and talk to him in public.