InsaneJournal

12 April
Friday, a Comedian left Los Angeles.

There's just not much to laugh about when the Comedian's out of town. Let's see, what have I done? I've sat on my arse, as usual. Oh! One exciting thing! I drank. Yeah, so exciting. I've started writing a song, but it's pathetic and sounding quite stalkerish. The worst part about it is I don't have anyone to write it for so the fact that I've written something borderline psychopathic is not cool. I'd like to look crazy for a reason. If not, I'll stick to the usual villain throughline and seem as sane as possible. -insert menacing laughter-

My usual lot in life has stayed true to the given course. Swallowing darkness and harvesting souls to complete my web. In other words, wallowing in a dark room and writing on my piano by candlelight. I don't know why. It does something. You try whatever means you can. I wish I could say that my power was shut off, then I wouldn't seem so odd. I do get out, though, from time to time. Until Jake left, I spent some time out at bars and his place gawking over Bettie. Now, well, your only hang-out buddy disappears to start filming and you just hope the tour would start up soon. No, I take that back. The Arachne boys and I went out to see I Love You, Man. It was brilliance. Now whenever one of them calls, we have these moments of "I love you, Bro Montana." And yes, I consider it very sad that I have experienced almost all the "shenanigans" in the film with those two. And I have a vagina. No wonder I can't get a date.

[Private]

I told Thomas about my issue. I don't know what the bleeding Christ I was thinking. I started caring about his fucking heroin issue and somehow, in order for him to believe I honestly gave two shits, I had to share with him my own. I cannot BELIEVE I told him that I "self-harm". Yes, I used to do it before we met and I probably had a few scars that carried over when we were first intimate but shit. I stopped then for a reason. So once he's gone, it starts up again? What does that say to him? Fucking feeds his ego, that's what it says. Makes him think he's the cause of all this. Well, he's not. When he gave up on me, it was just the proof I needed. I got quite the kick out of what that girl said, "...the outside beauty doesn't match the inside." No, but I am working on making it matching set. I'm sure he bloody thought I was cutting. Cutting, please. That's too obvious. If I burn myself, I can pass it off easier. Like I had to do the other day on the video shoot. Costume Lady Gasps! How did you do that to your leg? I laugh sheepishly, Oh, I was cooking and my cat jumped on my shoulder and made me flip hot grease all down my thigh. She doesn't have to know I don't cook. Or own a cat. Since I've told him, that little lighter has been exactly what I needed. I hate that people think it's just a cry for help. It's not. It's actually to feel something. Trent Reznor couldn't have hit that one more on the head with "Hurt". It's liberating. It feels amazing. It feels better than all the thoughts swirling in my head. Why do I have this sinking feeling he'll tell the world about it? Why does it feel like he's laughing at me, too? I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I HATE HIM. I wish I hadn't even cared. I wish I hadn't even made that fucking secret. I wish I had never met him. I don't care if that means I wouldn't be here. I hope he falls into the abyss he's weaving for himself and never crawls out. I wish I had never loved him and cursed myself to this lifetime of GIVING A FUCK about him. Sometimes, I wish I just had the fucking guts to do what Cobain did. BAM.