>>From: Belacqua
>>To: Perdita
>>Subject: Re: ugh
>>Date: Fri, 1 Dec 2000

My headache went away, so at least it's not the flu. That fucking sleep medicine didn't work worth a shit, though. I slept just as badly last night as I usually do. That shit didn't even make me drowsy. It took hours to fall asleep and then I couldn't get into a deep sleep for shit. So, I'm grumpy today and as a result, I spent more money I don't have. I bought myself two CD’s of one of my favorite bands, Alkaline Trio. I was only gonna get one CD, but then the record store had one I didn't even know was out, so I figured, what the fuck, and went ahead and got it. I don't even feel particularly guilty about it. My parents won't be happy, but hell, I'm treating myself to Christmas early. I think I deserve it.

My therapist is cool as hell. He doesn't try to tell me what to do at all. He's really supportive of what I do. He doesn't warn me at all about drinking because he knows that I know my own limits. It's these fucking med school psychiatrist pricks who really don't know anything about me that are trying to order me around. If I drink, I just won't take the sleeping pill. It’s as simple as that. It doesn't build up in my body like the antidepressants, so it should wear off when I wake up in the morning. Whatever. I have to see this lady one more time, and then I have to get a new shrink, or just fuck the meds entirely. I'll see how this Buspar stuff works, and if it bonks, too, then fuck it all.

I guess I'm going to try to bring up the borderline issue with my doctor when I see him next. I'll bring that book and try to ease into it. I don't think he'd put me in the hospital because he knows the amount of control I have. Hell, the fact that I'm still alive is testament to the control I have. When you get here, you have to read some passages from this book I have by the German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer. I don't know if you are at all familiar with his work, but I think he's a fucking genius. The premise of his philosophy is that life is full of suffering and misery and the right way to live your life is to deny your will to life, and eventually we're all rewarded by death. His work is great, his life was cool as hell, and I have every book by him that is in print right now.

This is the first Friday night in a long time that I'm going to be alone with absolutely nothing to do. I'd rent a movie or something, but I don't have a fucking VCR. I'm sure most of my friends are busy, and I'm tired of dragging them down anyway. Oh well. Friday night isn't really any different from any other night, except that I don't have to be up at any particular time tomorrow. I'll be up early anyway because I can't fucking sleep.

It's funny flipping through my CD books to see the titles of some of the albums: "Designing a Nervous Breakdown," "Maybe I'll Catch Fire," "Goddamnit," "Nothing Feels Good," etc. I really like depressing music. These are some words from an Alkaline Trio song called "Cooking Wine" that I got today: "Sorry I'm late/ I was out spoiling my liver/ I couldn't wait/ the sun was up for far too long today/ and I can't see straight/ but the two of you look awfully pretty/ and I couldn't wait/ been awake for far too long today." Right on.

Anyway, I guess I'll go stare at the wall and listen to some music for a little while and probably work on some of my writing. I hope you are having a good day and you continue to do so throughout the night, and if you're lucky, it might spill into tomorrow. One week....

I love you.
Belacqua

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>From: Perdita
>To: Belacqua
>Subject: Re: ugh
>Date: Fri, 1 Dec 2000

Belacqua,

I was in a bad mood the other day when I left work, so I went out and bought $200 worth of shoes. Then, the next day I was in a bad mood after work again, so I went to the bar and drank by myself. The intention was to save money this week, but that's nearly an impossibility when all you can do to keep on going is spend your money. It's almost masochistic to buy something when you really shouldn't. My shoes are great, though.

I wish you didn't have to be alone tonight. Well, I wish I could be there so you weren't alone, but next week I’ll be there. Tonight, I'm leaving work to go to Chili's for a drink while I wait for Braedon, then we're going to a bar downtown, then we're going for dinner with some people, and then we're going to shoot pool and drink some more. Well, that’s the plan. I wonder how far through all those plans I'm actually going to make it? I suck at going out these days. I used to be so much fun when I got drunk. Now, I just get really dizzy and depressed and have trouble walking straight. Then I start to get really annoyed that I'm not home watching TV. Or else I end up accidentally slicing my thumb open with a knife like last time. Every time I go out lately, I just wish you were here because I know we'd be better off drinking and being depressed together rather than separately. I'm really only going out tonight because I bail out on Braedon so frequently that I'm starting to feel like a major loser of a friend.

Well, it's time for me to go out for another smoke break. My boss has been on my back again about forgetting things. I'm sorry I'm forgetful. What else can I say? It's totally a medication thing, too, because I never had these problems before. But whatever. I hope you have a good night.

I love you.
Perdita