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10:17 p.m. / September 04, 2005 - - messages from the brink

it feels as if i am barely hanging on, sober for too long a stretch of time (whopping eleven hours) my eyes are sagging in my skull, my phone was left out in the rain (broken now), i think i'm going to take up smoking cigarettes again (six days without, a new record). it feels like i've been sending messages to myself via this diary for weeks, messages from the brink of my own consciousness. i am wound too tight, my muscles are tense and feel far too weak to keep up the state that they've been in. all i want to do is sleep but i can't, my mind keeps running at full speed, telling me to pack more, inhale more, bring the chemicals into your system again.

this is natural. this desire, it feels natural at a base level. it is a drive as primitive and as real as hunger or the drive for sex. alteration, intoxication. you can find it in drugs, in travel, even in simple redecorating or shopping. it's there. i can feel it urging me on. but a little ascetism isn't going to kill me, here.

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