Sheet of Flame

Tuesday, Dec. 19, 2006
I’m so tired lately. Not really sure why. I guess it could be all the pounding from Aberman’s upstairs. I think he’s a sculptor or something. Watched Fight Club again today. I remember how I used to love the book. I wonder if I still have it. Edward Norton is quite possibly my favorite actor. Brad Pitt adds to it, I guess, but Edward Norton steals the show. Sometimes I wish I was Edward Norton. Good ole Cornelius.

Jessica came over afterwards and we hung out for a bit, but I don’t like her like that. She talks too much. She keeps cuddling up to me and I just want to push her away. Sometimes it annoys the hell out of me. I guess we all need human contact though and she’s awfully warm curled up next to me. Better than being curled up by myself. I guess. I took one of those pills the doctors prescribed. Good ole antidepressants.

Wednesday, Dec. 20, 2006
No sleep. Again. Aberman must be really artistic lately because all that pounding and ringing is driving me insane. Then again, do the insane question their sanity? I remember hearing somewhere that they don’t. So I suppose I’m sane. If I were insane, I’d admit it. I’m not insane, just screwed up.

My shoes have mud on them and I don’t remember why. It’s pretty rainy outside, so it’s probably from there, and I have a receipt from some store. Pretty expensive. No recollection of any of it.

I think I’m slightly xenophobic. I don’t like going outside. Maybe that’s agoraphobic. Not sure, will have to look them both up later after work. I go to work, Jessica’s and come home. That’s my basic routine. Actually, that’s my life. Work. Jessica’s. Home. Mostly home. And pills.

Looked it up. Xenophobic means to have a fear of people. Agoraphobic is afraid of being outside. Basically, I think I might be both. Afraid to go outside of my comfort zone, especially with people. Who knows. Does the logic behind the insane person not questioning their sanity apply with phobias? I don’t think it does. What’s the name of that one disease where people constantly think they’re sick?

Thursday, Dec. 21, 2006
I went to Aberman’s today. He said he was going out of town for the weekend. Not that much of a journey as it’s only the apartment next to mine but I still felt like the world was after me. Closing in. Placebo effect apply to phobias? Sometimes I think I read too much into things. Either way, he works on stained glass apparently. Bending and shaping those little metal pieces that fit between the glass to form a picture of Jesus at the cross or other such things. He was working on a dolphin and told me that he really liked them.

If I had a power animal, it’d probably be a dolphin. I really like them too. Did I like dolphins before Aberman told me he did? Am I copying his like of dolphins? Sometimes I wonder if I’m just a mirror. Then again, does a mirror actually wonder if it’s a mirror? I should study psychology, something tells me I’d have a lot of questions. Forgot where I put my pills today. Oh well.

Friday, Dec. 22, 2006
I want to destroy something beautiful.

Saturday, Dec. 23, 2006
I don’t remember writing that yesterday and now I’m curious if Tyler Durden has made himself apparent. I looked in the mirror and wondered what I’d look like if Brad Pitt were to play me in a movie. No real resemblance, but that’s creative license for you. And I’m certainly no Edward Norton. Well, there’s more of an argument for Norton than Pitt. Guess I should find my pills.

Jessica came by again. I pretended to not recognize her, still playing like Cornelius, and she got angry and stormed off. Haven’t seen her in a bit. Unless Tyler’s been seeing her while I was sleeping. It’s a possibility, I guess. But Edward Norton never realizes until the end and I’m certainly no Edward Norton. I should call and apologize, though I won’t really mean it. She’s my friend but I’m not much of a friend to her. Is being depressed the same thing as being apathetic?

Sunday, Dec. 24, 2006
Aberman got back early today, someone had broken into his apartment. The police were there and there’s that yellow caution tape everywhere. Someone had been in his place and destroyed that beautiful dolphin. No more sliding for him. Or me. They asked me if I knew anyone who’d want to destroy it and I told them that Tyler may have done it. They asked who Tyler was and I told them he was a bad man and that’s all I knew. I didn’t mention my journal entry. I think it might have been his.

There are a bunch of small cuts on my wrist. It looks halfway between having tried to commit suicide and simply scratching an itch. Is it bad to be so apathetic about such a drastic thing? Maybe Tyler is seeping into my personality. Maybe I simply am Tyler and things are starting to slip out of my control. Selective memory.

The guy from the store that my receipt had the name of called today. Said my background check came back okay and I could pick my purchase up tomorrow. Will just have to button up and check it out.

Monday, Dec. 25, 2006
The blood’s everywhere. Even in my eyes. It stings and I’m wincing just trying to write this down. Not sure if this is a note for the police or if it’s a note for myself to look back on. The gun’s in my hand and I suppose I could kill myself. Jessica’s body is curled up in shock as if she never expected me to do such a thing when she came in the door. Sort of bowled her body over and she’s pouring out over my couch. Interesting blood pool pattern, I’m sure the coroner will say.

My vision’s a little blurry from the blood and adrenaline. I feel as alive as I ever have and then some. Blood’s pumping through me and my heart’s racing. My pills are spilled out across the floor and I don’t remember actually shooting her. Just the reaction. That horrified look and the ballerina spin to the ground. Maybe I could blame it on Tyler. Too late now. A handful of my pills are at the edge of her blood, speckled with it, and I think I’ll pick them up and take them. Only the blood-speckled ones. All of them. Do suicidal people realize they’re suicidal?

Romeo and Juliet, only without the love. Just the cold hard fact of mortality keeping us together. Is it strange to be thinking about the end where Edward shoots himself? I don’t think so.