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2004-03-29 - 2:21 p.m.
This diary is for me, remember?
Today is never going to end. I'm going to be stuck in this flourescent purgatory until I die. Unless of course I'm lucky and I find a wormhole and get sucked back into another dimension where I can go home to the sickening gray-yellow light of my bedroom where I will quickly search for the switch that lets me lie back into warm, welcome darkness.
On the upside, I now have fuckable hair.
Other than that, I have nothing to look forward to.
I'm almost 25 and this is the pinnacle.
Frankly, I'm sick of everything being so broken and stupid.
I'd write a book about it but I'm too pissed off.
And it's not like anyone reads anymore.
News flash: The pinnacle is broken and stupid. Start climbing somewhere else.
Yesterday after the surly waitress gave Diana her root beer float she dunked her straw into the foamy ice cream mass and said without a trace of irony:
"This is the greatest day of my life."
Obviously she is my hero.
But instead of learning something from my hero I am going to die here in the stupid droning office. My corpse will melt away into the E-Z Kleen corporate carpeting and my co-workers will start pilfering my pens and secret stashes of snacks.
This is the pinnacle:
My stupid ass fat and my stupid job and my stupid dreams and my stupid loves.
I would drop the ass and job and loves if I could just hold onto the dreams.
But I've never met anyone who would support me in my dreams.
But it's not like I can blame anyone _ we're all too busy feeling oppressed by each other and thinking that no one wants us to live our dreams either.
This is how we're all wrong: we think other people have more power than we do.
Maybe we learn the truth just before we die. Or maybe we just melt into the carpeting, walls, trees and gravel.
Maybe we were never really there.
What a sad existence we all lead.
Oh, wait, it's Monday. I always feel like this on Mondays. Luckily tomorrow is another day.