2004-03-23 / 5:38 p.m.

I understand religion less than I did before; I was sure that was impossible. Steven going on about personal godesses and fire spirits and energy being directed from... whatever he was trying to tell me. As if his being the only one in the room who felt that way lent credibility; like it made any more sense than virgin birth and parting the sea. Maybe I'd feel better if I lit some incense and meditated and maybe if I knelt down in some dark room and maybe if I'm good this year Santa will fix my life at Christmas. I've gone, in three very long, agonizing months, from not believing in anything I could articulate to others (but believing in it as strongly as I did my own existence) to not believing in anything. Not justice, certainly; not God or karma or peace or happiness that lasts more than a day. My upbringing might allow me the comfort of faith in science, atleast; but, no... I think I'd probably start pouring libations to Ra before I sought a doctor in hope of having something fixed.

I have a friend who scolds me for having a narrow world view; or used to. Anyway now I wonder what he'd think, if he knew I cared less about what happens outside this room than I ever even imagined possible before. I don't care that our government is full of hypocrites and liars and lunatics; don't care about epidemics or street crime or homelessness or tyranny. I don't care who blows what up for what reason or who gets killed or who starves to death in his mother's arms. I don't. I can't. And I certainly can't pretend to think I could change any of it. Misery and unfairness and pain... I could delude myself into thinking I was making some kind of difference in the world's agony, I'm good at deluding myself so it would be no problem. But in actuality all I'd do is move the badness around a little. Yeah, this guy feels better but the overall quota of hurt will just be met elsewhere. Making things better would require the existence of justice or atleast some kind of cosmic balance and there is none.

I'm sorry... have you seen my Cure T-Shirt and my eyeliner? I think I may need those again...

I don't mean to be so melodramatic. But I see undeserved suffering up really goddamn close every fucking day and I see happy, worthless idiots skating through life healthy and happy and bitching about taxes and it makes me want to vomit up all my internal organs... my crap, unusable blood-type fermenting in my own helplessness organs.

And I've increased the Prozac. I'm having a pharmaceutical breakfast with Elizabeth fucking Wurtzel every morning and still, more as the week drags on, I want to cram rocks in my pockets and walk into a river.

IT'S JUST NOT FUCKING FAIR.

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