12-12-2002 | 1:09 a.m.

Feels like I can't talk to anyone. When situations like this come up, everything else seems petty.

I won't lie. When people mock me or call me out for my drug/alcohol use, it stings. They don't know me though. Or they think they do. My behavior is fucked up. I've never hidden that.

Doesn't make sense to write here. Tired of rehashing. The words won't form. I don't want to seem like I'm looking for sympathy. I don't make sense anymore. Talking about it will not change anything.

I don't think I'll ever change. Stuck in self destruct mode. Maybe I don't want to change.

I'm tired. I can't entertain you and pretend to be happy. You don't understand it. I seem depressed and distant and that pisses you off. You look at me suspiciously, wondering if I'm drugged up again. I should be everything your expect. I can't.

After the holidays, that's it. I'll give you that time - your perfect X-Mas. Take that however you want. Judge me all you like. We're all flawed. You'll see that someday.