Really weird weekend. I've been in and out of sleep under the power of Nyquil. Totally surrendered to it. Each time I wake up, I feel I'm the last person alive. It's cold, wet and very quiet outside. I feel light. Hungry but too weak to actually fix anything. Enter dreamy hunk of a boyfriend to pick me up and sit me on the kitchen table while he fixes something for me to eat. I haven't showered since Friday. Enter guy to run a bath for me. To sit behind me in the tub, supporting my frail, stupid, cursed human form.

Mark's off camping or something some where. He dropped in earlier. I heard the door open, footsteps and the door close. He wasn't around when I went out to fix more hot chocolate and watch 'Sex & The City'. I so related with Carrie tonight. I haven't had sex in such a long time I think I've forgotten how to. I want to. I think. But I want it to be with someone I at least like. I haven't had that yet and it makes me feel like a virgin and not at the same time. In three or so weeks it will be a year since I've had intercourse. Oy! A year! When has it come to this?! Enter Mr. Perfect to take me off my chair, slide my pants around my ankles, settle between my weak trembling thighs and fuck me in my drugged state. Orgasms go great with Nyquil I'm sure. Back arched and eyes glazed as he paws at my limp body. Kissing, breathing, moaning and drifting off to sleep.

I sit here alone in my room. My window wet, twinkling stars that are raindrops. Blue hooded sweat pulled over my head. Typing and stopping every other second to touch chapped lips. My thumb rings seem bigger now and move more freely. I'm sure I've lost weight in the two or whatever days now I've been sick. From 114 to what though? 111, maybe? Ugh.

I have no idea why I'm fighting. I mean ...I feel drugged. My eyes keep rolling around. Listening to trance doesn't help. Earlier in the day I masturbated just to see what it's like when I'm drugged. I took forever to come. But the sensations were nice. Except when I came. It didn't feel special. The random touching felt much better. I should've just stuck with that. Running my hands under my shirt. Sliding them down my stomach and sneaking under my waistband.

Ugh. I want to give in and just sleep but I've been doing so much of that. I'm tired of the highspeed dreams I keep having but can barely remember. All threads break suddenly once I open my eyes. And the images fade fast. Train wrecks, bears, fields, darkness, 125th Street. Waking up and feeling I'm humanity's last hope. And feeling that we're fucked because I'm sick. I also feel trapped in the same day. My own Ground Hog's Day. I wake up coughing and it's gray and rainy outside. Enter dream boy to pull me into tomorrow.

I can barely feel my legs. I'm rambling aren't I. Everyone on my buddy lists are either busy, away or people I don't feel like talking to right now. I'm using all my strength to not message Aaron and say something I know I'll have to end up blaming on Nyquil. I feel like a marionette with the strings cut. The way my body just hangs. If I lean my head too far forward, it hits the desk. It feels nice the way my body's light and heavy at the same time.

Relm's dying. Her skin infection's getting worse. I feel like shit about it. I do. I can't do anything. I'm totally to blame. I feel like crying and I almost did earlier but all my emotions seem plugged into the wrong sockets or something. Stupid medicine. I probably won't get another mouse after she dies. Animals are better off without me. Animals and plants. I know the guilt will grow worse and linger much longer when she dies. I just hope she doesn't suffer.