01-14-2001 | 1:30 AM

I sold my soul. Want to buy it? . I blame Annatto for tempting me.
Go ahead sell your soul too.

I just realized that without my Absolut I'm a horribly boring waste-of-space type person. And I'm miserable. Not just depressed. Irritable. Pissed off. Agitated. Paranoid. I'd prefer the mania.

So, I went to the diner with a friend. Got home about a half hour ago. Everyone else in the house is asleep. I walk into the kitchen and what do I find on the counter? A bottle of Vodka. That's cruel. My Mom forbade me to drink in the house, but she leaves bottles of booze everywhere. Every night. And my Step-Dad smokes pot in the garage all the time.

Just one drink. A few splashes of vodka in a glass of coke. I can do this. Just to help me sleep. No one will find out. Hey I tried. I really did. My psychiatrist basically told me that there's nothing else he can do for me. I can't remember to take my meds. Or I don't want to. And he wants me to have shock-therapy but I'm not letting them fry my brain. And is it really that bad? Am I at such a point where I need a 'last resort' treatment such as ECT? Stop Staring at me. Stop it. Stop it. "You have to hit rock bottom." Fuck you. I want help before that happens. And you won't help me.

And I don't answer my phone anymore. Leave a message. But I don't even listen to the machine. Blinking red light. Can't take any more messages. Don't show up at my house. I don't want you to see me this way. John, you let heroin destroy your life. And now you try to help me. And I push you away. And I'm sorry.

And Dad. I'm just like you. And there is no way I'd ever tell you that I'm struggling. You believe I've been sober since May. What would you do? Nothing.

I need a drink. I need some pills. Then I'll be okay.