Today, I went to therapy. I went to the doctor. I got more xanax and diluadid. My foot doesn't hurt right now and I have staved off another panic attack. Haha, a walking pharmacy. A drugstore cowboy.

I'm so tired. I got up so early today.

*Dream: fluffy pillow, feather comforter, cashmere pajamas, boyfriend sleeping next to me, hugging me so tight I feel human again. Making life worth it. Making me happy. Sleepy time.

Brain dead.

Talked to Scott the other day. Can't figure out the state of our relationship.

I don't have anything to write today, I'm bored.

I'm typing naked on the floor. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Dexter next to me sitting cross-legged (completely dressed sans shoes) playing video games on his computer.

I'm still addicted to morphine. It sucks.

I can't keep my thoughts coherent. I am way too tired. I want ice crem and Iulius Caeser's head to become un-decapatated.

SLEEP

AWAKE

Goodnight.

This entry was much better when I wrote it about my dick.