Physician or Psychiatrist?

It says 1:11 am on my PC clock. Time to make a wish. I wish to be stranded in the land of dreams tonight. At the rate I'm going, no nightmare can be emptier or sadder than my conscious seems to be.

My right hand is twitching. One of my knuckles is kinda purplish, and my right index finger hurts whenever I bend it. I suppose it isn't so bad. It's a distraction, anyway. The thought of playing with sharp objects did cross my mind, but I don't wanna get tetanus from weight training.

My life is slowly catching up with me. The more I think about it, the more I want to end it. It's a little tiring for me to elaborate so I'll forego the melodrama on this occasion.

I actually stepped out to buy The Barbs' Lupine Peroxide album earlier today. It didn't do shit. I suppose the walk made me appreciate the night lights of the streets around Panay Avenue, but that lasted all of ten seconds. Ok, I'll admit, Massive Crush was pretty cool, but even that didn't make me feel a whole lot better.

And here I am. Typing. Typing typing typing. That's the only cure I've ever known. So I hope I get cured of my insomnia. The sooner I get to sleep, the sooner I can get stuck inside a dream.

Ahh, who am I kidding? Right now, I feel like I could stay here all night. There's not a thing in this world that can snap me out of this downward spiral of despair and hopelessness...