being a theatre major is filling in some gaps for me lately. i have had more gay theatre men grope me in the past few weeks than i have had people of compatible sexual orientations do so in the past few years. joking around with people in a familiar way that only theatre kids can do . . . its fun, it reminds me of what these things are like, not as though i take it seriously, it is all in jest . . . but it is a nice reminder.

I want you to want me.
i need you to need me.
i'd love you to love me.

i am so tired of being alone. I want to be flirted with, held, kissed, whispered to, touched, hell i wanna be fucked to. As unromantic as it sounds, its true.

goddam it.

i keep getting an urge to call someone and talk about things, about how i started abusing again and all these thoughts and dead ends . . . i pick up my phone and realize there isn;t anyone to call. there isnt anyone to talk to. they have all become estranged or ceased to care . . .
i want to cry and bleed tonight. i cant, i have so many cuts on my legs from myself and various sincere accidents lately that i cant even shave them . . . how insane is that?

This weekend i heal. I clean my room and get everything in order, do my laundry, wash my dishes. do work for classes, work for plays, get my life reassembled . . . and spend a very frightening amount of time alone.

I dont know how this will go.so far i dont know of any of my friends who are staying on campus for this long weekend . . . I will be alone. tomorrow i am going shopping with Michael, but after that . . . nothing. i dont know how well i will do, we shall have to wait and see.

waiting . . . i hate waiting