4-2-2002 | 12:52 a.m.

I think I need to get out of here for a while, before I completely regress and start playing with Barbie dolls and hiding under my bed. I'm dizzy all the time and had another fall down the stairs. I have a cut on my eyelid and a beautiful black eye. I think it's the Xanax. Maybe I need a plastic bubble, like Telutci recommended.

My buddy Ryan, who is currently attending college in Florida, will be home for a few weeks in May. He'll have his car and wants me to return to Miami with him and spend a few weeks hanging out. Ryan will not be home for the Summer, like last year, since he got an internship at a weather station. Or something like that. I can see him on TV now, with that crazy laugh of his - forcing the viewers to cringe.

So, this would mean a long ass drive from NY to FL and me on a return flight alone. I'm not afraid to fly - it just makes me nervous. I need to pop a few Xanax and have a few drinks to relax otherwise the turbulence leads me to believe that the plane is about to crash. The whole terrorism deal doesn't phase me. Regardless of my Mom's fear of nuclear war, I'm emotionless - which pisses her off big time.

However, after Ryan issued the invite, I had a nightmare:

Dramatic bracket use {I was on a plane and the stewardess informed me that we were about to crash. I asked what our chances of survival were. Her response - "About 95% of the passengers will die." For some reason I thought I had super powers and started to run around trying to fix the plane with mind control or something. I was told that there was nothing anyone could do. I lost my balance and started to bang against the seats. Looking out the window, I could see the ground. I closed my eyes and yelled, "This is all your fault!" No clue who I was referring to.}

And then I woke up. Think I should cancel my plans? I need to go somewhere for a reality break. And the nuthouse would not be my first choice.