July 11, 1999 3:50 P.M. It’s a broken microchip. Really, it must be. I get a dark cloud over me. I don’t know how to get rid of it. Everything around me sucks. I don’t like anyone even the ones I love although I know I do still love them. There’s a block and I don’t know how or why it’s there. The circuit doesn’t make it’s link.

I get awful thoughts. Thoughts I never tell anyone. Evil thoughts. Hatred thoughts.
Why is it I want to close myself off from everyone. Push them all away.
I burnt my arm. Not bad but enough to know i did do it. It’s not even red just enough to know there is some pain. (While cooking I did this by accident).The kids scratched my car; by accident. Pierre blows up at me.
The kids play. It frustrates Pierre; he can’t sleep. I get bitchy. Pierre leaves. The kids drive me nuts. Who cares.