15 November 2004

return of the living stress head

the pressure! the pressure! I've just thrown myself around my room trying to get rid of some of the frustration I feel trying to communicate with megan. On top of the film we have to make we also have to individually write a 6 page realist screenplay to be assessed. I need two old people for our character study. We're supposed to be figuring out what we're doing our big long essay on for next year. Pre-production continues. I just want to curl up into a little ball and cry myself to sleep and I don't ever want to wake up. I feel like I'm bouncing off the walls of a prison cell containing my mind. I want a spliff but at the same time I don't want one because I'm afraid it'll just send me into a lethargic daze and I won't get any work done. These are the times I really worry that there's something wrong with me that can't ever be fixed. I'm trying to write the treatment for this script but I'm finding it real difficult to give a fuck. It's times like this that, as a teenager, I would wander around in a daze wishing someone would help me. These days of course I know that there ain't nobody to help you but yourself, which ain't exactly helpful.