the first problem is never the last

I killed a cricket lastnight - and was very concerned it was Fred. It wasn´t. My lovely Fred is alive and well somewhere, somewhere in the depths of my bathroom. Fred is alive because Fred is non-threatening. he doesn´t try and get other places. He just sits somewhere and is my lovely Fred. Fred and the purple man are my only friends. Lies... all lies. But they´re the only ones who understand what I say.

I´ve decided to get blisteringly drunk for ever. Maybe it is a sad compensation technique, but it is the best I am capable of, thank you daddy.

I cried a lot this morning for my incapability of understanding. My biggest fear I suppose is of being replaced. It is perhaps not very reasonable - every role we fulfil is entirely fulfillable by other people. Maybe this fear is the reason I´ve always fallen for people who make me feel irreplaceable. Hte problem lies inthat thewy have that as a talent... they make everyone feel irreplaceable. In a way it could be comforting, but in reality for me it is not a comfortable thought. My biggest hate is then not understanding. I hate not understanding with a passion. All I want is to understand what people are saying and why people are. This is the hate that is bound never to be fully soothed, but it can at least be ignoed for a brief period of time through languzge.

How do you run when you don´t know how to walk? How do you know how to lie if you don´t know what truth is? How do you dream if you´ve never been awake?

i am homesick for being superfically understood at the very least. And tomorrow is a new day and nothing changes.