WORK appears to be where I found it last time. The store sits and stares at me with its painted walls, simply classified in my world as WORK.
WORK = Job.
Job = hours out of most of my days that is spent without any real thought.
Things matter briefly, then gets shuffled away once I wake up as me after WORK is done. At least here the coworkers are as fucked up as me, or at least pretend to be. I'm never quite sure when they say things like "you're scaring me".

Anyways so it's been busy at WORK lately. Well ok maybe not busy, just becoming less easy to ignore. Makes me want to let go. You know, selling everything and just getting down to the basics. I'm tired of the shit that gets in the way when I try to walk through a room. I want a wand to point at it and make it disappear, and one of my bank accounts to be credited for it. Someone should get working on that. I play too much Sims. Regardless, I blink an afternoon away at WORK.

Don't sit me by the emergency exit; I'm not interested in that I thought to myself. I've filled out all the forms they told me, signing my fake name over and over again. I practiced writing it the night before. The bank chick doesn't look too swift anyways so I'm sure it won't matter. She's yapping on about something stupid, and I'm smiling at her like I give a shit. So now I have another bank account. It doesn't have very much in it, but there it is nonetheless.

The Temptation tries to enter my thoughts but I'm too quick and deflect them. Damn kid is the Temptation. Taunting me really and just generally trying to make my head go silly. The Neighbor was by today but it was 'all good'. He doesn't know that I don't want to see him every morning, but he brings coffee so I'm trapped. The Bitch Neighbor hasn't been around lately, probably because she knows I hate her. I left her a letter about it a few days ago.

Bitch Neighbor reminds me of the Crazy Lady that Jay says lives in his building. His Crazy Lady paces out front of the building, putting pennies in the payphone. There's got to be a reason in her head for this but no one else knows it. Pennies in payphones. That's what it comes down to sometimes. Why can't you just use another persons body to go have fun for awhile… then slip into your again when you're done. Someone should get working on that too.

Last night I was upset. Maybe disappointed. Either way, the Temptation was to blame. I existed in my own private hell for a few hours, seething with rage towards the selfishness of the world around me. They had all visited briefly but left because I was there. They claimed it was late, that they had things to do, but I know they left because they hated me. They were only there to show me that they had lives and I didn't. Well good for them, I'm glad.

I get home and discover my cat has pissed on my bed. Of course she has, I haven't cleaned out the kitty litter in hours. I beg for forgiveness and wash my piss-stained sheets. The cat purrs happily in the corner, knowing I'm whipped. Bitch left the cat here when she left. Seems only fitting really.

My fridge is empty. I thought I had bought food yesterday, but I probably dreamt it. Last night I had dreamt I was that other person again and woke up sweating. I count my bankbooks to calm myself down. They're shiny. There is so much in those little books. Lines, small text, and watermarks. They fit nicely in my pockets. I have no faith in any of it, but it keeps them distracted for a while.

It's time for sleep deprivation. I have arranged to have some time away from WORK so I can stay up. Two weeks should be enough. I have the feeling that it's beginning to get to me, all this pretending all the time. The Temptation had to be dealt with, only one way to end it. I was ready for the whole thing, and I've been practicing each day the night before. Each moment of every day is planned out beforehand so I don't screw things up.

Pretending to be someone else isn't so hard, as long as you remember what is you and what is what you're pretending to be. Those Hello My Name Is tags do wonders. They're so shiny. I forget my name sometimes, but that's what the homework is about. I almost know the seven wonders of the ancient world by heart.

The puppet show seemed to go on for hours. Sure I liked the frog puppet, but Mr. Shark was a complete let down, utterly unbelievable. I protested his arrival on the scene until I was told to leave again. At least I made the kids cry, especially that fat one with the Mickey Mouse t-shirt. Serves them right for giving me some red sugar water.

Bread is something we all need to have to soak up messes in the bathroom. I have to get my bread from that store that makes it. The guy there is always there. I think he's a robot. A bread-making robot.
"Well holy shit" he said shaking his head.
As if he even knew what I was talking about, which he didn't. He was pretending to know so I distracted him with some fancy footwork and raced out of there. I certainly didn't have time to explain it all to him. Damn puppets and bread-making robots are trying to bring my sanity to an end. They won't be happy until I'm hugging myself in a padded room.

In the car nothing had changed. Strawberry jam was still on the windows and James was pretending not to notice the small fire in the backseat. Determined to show him that I could keep calm, I got in the car and put on my seatbelt. James gave me the finger and we pulled out of the parking lot.

James isn't as smart as he thinks I thought, pulling on my cat mask. North Dakota wasn't built in a week, so that would show the fucker. I waited for him to react, which of course he did. He ripped it off my face and threw it in the fire. I pretended not to notice, as he was obviously not in the mood for a game of cat and mouse.

I've been writing violent stories again. I used to do that a lot when I was younger, and I'm sketching it out too. Even thinking of mailing them off to random people; you know, to spread some insanity. I imagine the random person as they open it, pulling out the paper, reading it and then looking around. I wonder what they would think. Perhaps they'll be scared, or perhaps it will give them a few ideas. Either way it's easier to just blame society then anything else. If it weren't for those shiny green things always in the skies I'd say it was the food too. Food and society; pennies in payphones.

"Did you use my deodorant again?" She demanded. She makes up these things and accuses me. I don't even know why I put up with it. So I use her deodorant every once in awhile. Does she measure it every day? How does she even know? Just one of those things that makes me think she's an elaborate camera-robot designed to spy on me. She notes everything I say and do to send it back to a lab where they analyze it. She is staring at me, waiting for me to answer. I refuse to comment and flee the scene.

James tries to impress me with his knowledge of web design. To be honest, he's not that smart; he just pretends he's smart so that maybe one day he'll trick himself into actually being smart. It won't work, but you have to give the guy something for trying. He plays bowie which is cool, so I'll keep the bag of bees for another night.

The movie had been ok but I had been distracted by the Temptation. I'll bet the kid didn't even think about it for a second, yet there I was thinking about it and dropping my candy all over the floor. It all rolls down to the bottom of the theatre, taking the longest and loudest routes it possibly can. They stop the movie, turn on the lights and stare at me. I am forced to pick up each one and eat them. The Temptation probably hates me now. Everyone hates me.

I have 14 bankbooks. 4 are red, 6 are blue, 2 are white&green, 1 black and 1 silver. The silver is my favorite; it's the shiniest and has the most interesting font on the inside. The bank threw off the shackles of Times New Roman and embraced Arial. It's ground-breaking really and I keep it in its little plastic holder. Silver, black, red, blue, white&green; that is how I stack them each time. I know all the planets by name now, including Pluto, which is still in debate.

I woke up to hear her yelling at me again. She said that my life was pathetic, that I had no purpose in life. She had probably been yelling for a few hours now, as her voice seemed hoarse. She is in the kitchen, yelling as she cleans it. This has happened many times, me waking up to yelling. At no point does she actually speak to or even seen me when this happens, she just begins yelling and eventually I wake up to it. She says that there is no point in making sure I'm listening, because she knows I'm not. Instead she yells at the appliances, telling them how horrible I am to her.

I guess I'll get up now. A shower should drown out the sound of her voice for a while. Unfortunately it will also mean that she knows I'm awake, causing the ranting to turn to remarks about the late hour I've slept in until. Whatever. Either way, I don't have a hair dryer so it's gonna be cold for awhile. I'll have to find my winter hat, and I'll just have to ignore anyone who starts asking too many questions about it. Especially James.

It's getting so when I wake up in the morning I don't feel rested, but instead feel like I have been awake all night. I had another dream last night, I was at the cottage again by the lake. Every time I had turned to look at the waves, they grew larger and larger, rushing up at me angrily. I would be forced to look away, and then the waves would recede. The water would lap at the edge of the cottage, daring me to look at it. I struggle not to look at it, terrified to see those waves come rushing at me again. I count my bankbooks and make sure they're stacked correctly.

Reminds me of that time we pretended to be engaged and got registered at that store. We bothered salespeople for hours and scanned in hundreds of items, then printed it out and left. Nothing like spending someone else's money, even though we didn't get anything out of it. That's the way it goes usually, just a way to waste some time until I'm asleep or dead. I wonder when we'll decided to do that again; I've got the most wonderful name picked out.

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