fuck.
November 30, 2003, 9:48 pm

FAILURE.

I'll just say it out loud and get it out of the way.

FAILURE.

That's what I am; it's how I feel. It's what is leaving me, here, paralyzed to go out to my car because I can't face the fact that I have failed at what I set out to do this week through no one else's fault but my own.

I have FAILED.

All I have done for the past five days is worry about tomorrow, knowing that I wouldn't do what I had to do and now that it has come to fruition I have put myself in a full-blown hysterical panic. I am a failure.

I asked my mom tonight if she would be mad at me if I quit my job at the end of the year, and she said "No, I can't stand to see you like this. This job isn't worth your health."

It's not, it's not, it's not. It can't be. This is not all I am.

Shit. This isn't what I wanted this to be. This isn't who I am at all.