"Hello," He lied.

I'm hung over, withdrawling from nicotine and without medication.

But all will be rectified once I get home. In an hour and a half or so. On the subway. From the Bronx.

Head hurts about five different ways. And i'm having trouble focusing.

And I did it again. I made myself a passanger. I passangered.

What i'm trying to say is this: I gave up control of my life. Because I was angry.

Let me be more concrete. Last night I went out with a girl I told, after great effort, I wasn't romantically atracted to. But I went out with her anyway.

I just hate the idea of people hating me. Or, rather. My desire to please people is ingrained and pathological.

Which is why I kissed her. Because she wanted me to. And I can only resist so many things at once. To wit, one. And last night that one was smoking. So I gave in and kissed her because I could sense that she wanted me to.

And once I did that, well, hell, I might as well just give up and sleep with her. Which I did.

That's what I mean by passangered. I slept with her like I was on the mad hatter ride at Disneyland. Like it was out of my control. Like I am a victim and can't learn to control my desire to please people. Temporarily. Because the real product of this desire is pain.

Patterns. Mistakes. Repetition that end only in tears.

Maybe I'll write her a letter, not explaining these things, but stopping things before they get worse. Before there will be real pain.

Big Push

Trying to get things under control in the old apartment box so I can finally make my system again. Been living, if you can call it that, without the system for too long.

So, hopefully I'll do some posting this weekend to let you know how it goes.

Wish me luck!

Hi Stranger

I've been bad about posting. I know.

But I have something relevant to say now.

Anxiety.

I've been trying to get grades turned in so I can graduate for these bullshit reading classes that I must admit, I didn't make the best effort in.

But I read.

Anyway, it's with two of my frenemy professors, who kind of cock-blocked me, though I should have known better. But that's neither here nor there.

Back to the anxiety. This causes me some. For no good reason.

I tried without taking any ativan, and it was too late. Seems the ativan takes about twenty minutes to kick in, so the heart is still racing, but at least I did it. And the ativan will help with the post-stress anxiety, the residual anxiety.

Now all I need is a diet coke.