ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- \"I hope it sucks you, fucker\" - Tool Isn't always the last place you look? I tried to access my Guestbook account and it turns out that my login and password for it are the exact same ones that I use for Diaryland. Further proof that my brain is, in fact, atrophying. Whereas I once was semi-intelligent, I'm now quasi-retarded. The slow, dumbing-down of my fascinating life. I was talking to Nicole today, trying to explain the funk that I've been in for three weeks. I haven't written anything. I haven't made any effort to extend myself to anyone. I haven't even been thinking that much. I've withdrawn from everyone around me, including myself. I really couldn't tell you what's gone on in my head over the past few weeks. Like my friend Naomi said, I look like I'm on "auto-pilot", and I suppose I am. I'm getting plenty of work done, and my characters for the current round of shows at the Fault Line are finely polished. I've put so much energy and personality into them because I'm not using any for myself. My bio line on the program says: "This is where I would tell you about Eric, the actor, but I honestly have no idea who I am. I'll let my characters speak for me, since their words are scripted and I can't be held accountable" or something to that nature.If forced to give an answer to "What have you been thinking about?" I'd have to go with "Nothing." Sure, I occasionally roll topics around in my head while smoking a cigarette or waiting for a bus or laundry or something. Nicole, finances, the supposed car that my friend Bo has waiting for me in Texas, and why, oh why am I so unfulfilled? That's about it.There once was a time when I was yours and you were fine with me pretending.But just like all of life's great things, that arrangement had its own way of quickly ending. More like a blood-letting than a swift and painful forgetting, but still it hurt me. An ineffective sweater you brought back, you hung me up on a clothing rack to desert me. I wish I could find words that you haven't already heard to make you feel it. If I could find the right tarot card that would melt your frozen heart, I would deal it. Sometimes I wish I knew if it was me or if it was you that called it over. But no matter who lost interest first I will always feel the thirst for your colors.Yep, no thoughts to speak of. No motivation to change anything. No energy to fight for what I think I deserve. Happy Fucking Thanksgiving, everyone! 10:32 p.m. - 2004-11-24 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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