1 March 1999 ~ Noplace like home...

I FUCKING HATE MY LIFE.

I'm going to get some coffee now. Some Java Joe's coffee. I don't get it free here yet. Nobody but David ever gave me free coffee...

Ooh, I just want to kill people...

~Helena*

"Do you take your peach tea with a lemon? Honey? Helena, stop watching the skies, the plane's gone..." --David, May 5, 1997

"He's not worth it." --Erich, May 4, 1997


Okay, I'm back. My wrists feel weird... Like some little creature is flopping around in them... A goldfish or something. I guess I've had way too much coffee. I'm going to take a brief moment just to give everyone an idea of how much coffee I've ingested... I'm now grabbing my Java Joe's cup (yes, I stole it - I confess - what the fuck are you going to do about it?), filling it up four times, and pouring the water into a 2-liter bottle. Half-full. I just drank and entire LITER of coffee. Java Joe's coffee. Oh gahd, no wonder I feel so sick... Well, maybe it's the coffee...

My heart is breaking...

Gahd I feel ill.

Love,
Helena*

"This space reserved for you, gentle readers and friends, to bitch at me for not being home, or to tell me what man you're leaving me for..." --The sign on my door...