I feel restless and cramped. Caged, really, with no apparent hope for escape. I cannot even fantasize my way out of this madness, short of hospitalization. Maybe [St. John’s wort] will help again, though. I cannot stand So Cal February gloom. I think maybe there are only a few months I can endure.

But I’m trying not to feel too lonely. I’m trying to imagine myself out of this situation. I do not think I was this spastic before I had come out to SoCal and made to see face-to-face the sheer magnitude of my folly—why am I crazy when it comes to [the hope of romantic relationships], I mean, I suppose I’m happy that I wasn’t as completely insane [this time] compared to [last time], but it’s just kind of pathetic that this is the only way I can console myself.

Mostly I am sensitized by the married couple beside me (They are watching “The Usual Suspects” on a laptop. Technology. Heh.)

OK, now that I think about it, I was pretty looney-tunes [this time around, too]. I mean, I’m having an incredibly hard time letting go. But I’ve got to get out of it somehow, soon. Well, there’ll be work that needs to be done.

Oh yeah, that’s what I wanted to comment about: the frightening appicability of horoscopes as of late. My mondrous debacle on Saturday was forecast with such elements as “Romance involved. Leo prefigures.” Or some such arcana.

In any case, it definitely [pointed to [redacted]] and it certainly involed romance. Unfortunately, it didn’t really include me, but luckily I knew better than to hope. I think I may have to give up on hope altogether and just accept happiness as the fantasy that it is. The next two days of horoscopes mentioned the necessity of finding out why things happened. I have no idea how to do this, seeing as how I probably won’t have the courage to contact [redacted] again. But I do realize that I have to come to grips with the consequences of my decisions, and try to piece together the chain of events surrounding my ill-thought out plans.

I will first recall a dream I had a few days ago, perhaps related to the Path which I eschewed. Shit, I suppose I really have taken the Path that will keep the most doors open, although, if given another chance to choose, I might very well renege.

But I dreamt that I was at a Borders whose entrance was similar to the Xavier Center at the high school I attended, and I saw all sorts of people that I haven’t really thought of in a while.

I also ran into E (and I suppose A was there…) But [E and I] discussed a story about St. Francis of Assisi managing to swindle the Devil. I remember pondering the ethics of the situation: how could a saint swindle anybody? But if the victim is Satan, does that make it less wrong?

In any case, the reason I may have been at that Borders was because I was signing books. But who really knows?

But the night of my debacle, I spent a necessarily sleepless night, cursing my fate as I tossed and turned. I even remember screaming out (at least in a half-dream) that I renounce all the decisions I’ve made since [that fateful summer]. But I wasn’t surprised to wake up still in Hell. I didn however get tired enough to want to sleep in after all.

Well, I feel much better now, and I don’t know which I feel, relieved or pathetic, that all I’ve got to pour my heart out to is this damned notebook.