March 31, 2003
The alluring sedative of powerlessness whispers to you again. You imagine yourself nailed to a cross. You feel handcuffs biting into your tender wrists as you're dragged off to jail. You feel your body ripped in half as your car fucks a telephone pole. You imagine bashing a window open with your head. You visualize your own funeral. The thought of death relaxes you. It's a relief. Then you want to apologize to everyone you've ever known. And it hits you that you're just being a dick. So you rest and get back in the game, ready to play again.