• I am constantly torn with killing myself and killing everyone around me. Those seem to be the two choices. Everything else is just killing time.
  • I'm lying on the top of my covers with my clothes still on, the play still on my chest, eyes closed, mind racing. I'm thinking about Tiny. The pathetic thing I wanted to say to him on the phone-but I didn't- was this: When you're a little kid, you have something. Maybe it's a blanket or a stuffed animal or whatever. For me, it was this stuffed prairie dog that I got one Christmas when I was like three. I don't even know where they found a stuffed prairie dog, but whatever, it sat up on it's hind legs and I called him Marvin, and I dragged Marvin around by his prairie dog ears until I was about ten. And then at some point, it was nothing personal against Marvin, but he started spending more time in the closet with my other toys, and then more time, until finally Marvin became a full-time resident of the closet. But for many years afterwards, sometimes I would get Marvin out of the closet and just hang out with him for a while-not for me, but for Marvin. I realized it was crazy, but I still did it. And the thing I wanted to say to Tiny is that sometimes, I feel like his Marvin.
dec 14 2012 ∞
dec 14 2012 +