I am doing well. I have nothing to write. I repeat the same paranoid delusions day after day. I wrote earlier, but didn't save it. So I'm scrapping any earlier thoughts/delusions. My parents left town this weekend. My mother told me that yesterday. Sort of last minute if you ask me, but I don't care. It's nice having them gone. It's nice to be alone sometimes. I got my negatives back from my trip, and they look amazing. My camera is so fucking gorgeous. He's better than anything, better than anyone has ever been to me. I really do wish I could get that boy. He'd be dependable as my fucking camera. He'd look as good as my negs do. But alas, what's the point in thinking like this. I went to Popscene last night. I wish I hadn't. I didn't meet anyone, nor did I want to. I got a little drunk with some friends at a barbecue beforehand. I wanted Max to come, but he couldn't. I want to see him soon. I am wondering a little bit whether he actually wants to see me. I think so, but I really am paranoid. He eased my paranoia quite a bit yesterday. He just did something I really didn't expect him to. I need more honestly good people in my life. There's Laura, Nick, Frank, Daniel (who I don't see enough now that school's out), Max, Caitlin, but that's about it in my life. It's enough, but no one wants to be boyfriends with me. Ahhhh, self-pity is such a marvelously gratifying feeling. It really is. I'm not doing so bad, really, when it comes down to it. At least I'm not unhappy. The gay pride thing in the city is this weekend. I want to go. I told Zach I'd meet him to go to bars in the Castro tomorrow. I met him at Popscene last week. He's cute, but I don't know if I really like him. I feel guilty. If I could just convince myself that it was absolutely never going to happen with *** (just for old times' sake), then I probably would be a lot more excited, but I just feel guilty because I continue to think that maybe, just maybe....Enough. I need to sleep. It's early, but I am dead. Living dead. Mr. Self Destruct.
'I am the truth from which you run. And I control you. I am the silencing machine. And I control you. I am the end of all your dreams. And I control you.' ----'Mr. Self Destruct' by Nine Inch Nails