Oh gahd, I do not feel good...
Well, I got to see Lolita finally... It seemed appropriate, in light of Mr. Stanley Kubrick's death that I see all of his films that I'm been meaning to see... Lemme tell ya, it's one WEIRD movie... Kinda reminded me of my first, er, boyfriend -- you know, the pedophile...?
So I'm watching the film, and all of a sudden, I get this amazing stomach pain. I made Mike pause the video so I could run to the bathroom, then dash for the refrigerator and the Pepto Bismol. Of course, it's my own damn fault; I started the damn cigarettes in the first place. I stopped them in the second place...
I don't know why I chose so suddenly to stop... I do, actually, but I don't want to talk about it right now... I just didn't realize I was so addicted... And I didn't remember the damn PAIN that withdrawal brings with it... Makes me wonder what in the name of the higher powers ever possessed me to start...
It started with a little rebellion, a little peer pressure, and a little bit of stupidity, I know that much for sure. And now it's ending, with me desperately chewing a wad of gum trying not to be sick, and typing furiously to keep my shaky fingers occupied. I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight. I'm going to toss and turn and feel sick and have horrible nightmares -- again... Gahd, please someone, just make it STOP. I just had a cigarette, but it didn't help much. A little but not enough -- my stomach, so used to being abused, is now begging for some precious release from the poisons I've been sticking into it...
WHAT was I thinking when I first had that stupid drag off of Neil's cigarette? Oh yes, I remember: I remember thinking that, what the fuck - all my friends smoked, so why didn't I? I'd found a pack of Marlboros tucked into David's CD bag, which shocked me, because if ANYONE was going to be immune to doing that sort of naughty naughty thing, it would be David. My David, sweet invincible David, with a pack of good ol' Marbs in his bag. What on earth was the world coming to? Might as well catch a little bit of lung cancer and get it over with, right?
I saw a play tonight. It was called, "The Wedding." I didn't like it. I'm not sure why. I guess it wasn't very well directed, and the actors weren't really very enthusiastic. It seemed kind of uneven. But I couldn't really pay attention. My brain was off in la-la-land, and I was thinking about having another coffee or some chocolate or something. But by the time the show was over, I couldn't think of putting food --rancod, rancid food -- into my mouth. I managed to suck down a Coke, which surely isn't helping me any, but my concentration's shot. My whole body is weak and now I can barely remember the play.
I've got incense smoking on top of my computer monitor. I'm not supposed to have it, but I wanted it there - to keep my eyes occupied by watching the strings of smoke drift around slyly - drifting, weaving, floating... "I'm FLOATING... With you..." Sorry -- I was just reminded of a Julee Cruise song: "Floating." Oh gahd, my brain is shot... So's the rest of my body... Mike's here to help me make some tea...
SOMEONE PLEASE GET THIS OUT OF ME...
Love always,
Helena*