cellini's Diaryland Diary

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I'm So Tired

She wouldn't stay up with me. I'm alone again. As usual, I'm alone. And I'm just fucking sick of it.

I was not in either war, though I didn't shy away. I tried to join up twice before 9/11 and they wouldn't take me on account of a medical disqualification that shouldn't have mattered.

Yet I have been shot at. I've won and lost. I've killed for what I believed in.

I wish that I could have seen Jenny when I was in Missouri. She was the main reason why I went there instead of Illinois. I didn't want to be a whiny bitch about it. I suppose that I am used to this. The way that things go. I don't get nice things. I am just alone.

Now I am so tired that my eyelids burn a little bit when I blink. I should go to bed but I don't know where. I don't know where in this house of mine that I should sleep.

I've stopped believing that there will ever be anyone or anything else. That there will ever be anyone at all who even acknowledges my existence as something other than meeting a weird environmental celebrity. I expect a violent death and a closed coffin service and that's about it. I've given up on any other remotely meaningful encounter with another human being. I don't even know what the point is of finishing this book.

No one is coming.

2:28 a.m. - 2011-09-01

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