Entry Fourteen
It's Sad, It's True

            Blue Book:
 
    I didn't mean what I said the other day. About fucking you, I mean. Not that you have any room to be offended, but I'm sure my future self looking back on these pages just might. I offend myself sometimes, too. Wonder if there's ever been a case of a self-lawsuit of someone suing themselves. Not like people are capable of doing that anymore. Lots of shit's happened down the line in history and it's all gone to hell now. Would you believe that? Now what's that saying again? About the doodoo hitting the fan? What is with this country's fixation and feces, anyway? Is it the American dream? Shit?
    Shit, this really wasn't what I had originally intended on talking about. I'm not even sure if the me that was sitting here a minute ago was sure what he was going to talk about. What's the point, anyway?
    I think it's this room. I've been cooped up in here for so long.... Maybe it's Marcus again. Maybe he's testing my sanity, seeing how long it'll be ‘til I crack. I wouldn't put it past him. Cheeky little smug fuck. There's nothing here to distract my mind now except for this book and the poetry. No Sarah, though.
    Lying here for so long, I think it gives me more time to think than I need. I remembered something that, in normal instances, I probably wouldn't even take to heart. Most of them are about my mother. Stupid, really.... Marcus probably would've just scoffed at me and scroll further down his list containing my diagnosis. Nonono, I'm serious here. Or maybe I'm not and that's the problem with it all--I'm not serious. How do you know? Do you know me, Blue Book? Have you an inkling?
    I didn't think so.
    It's stupid, because I keep remembering things that my parents had said. Most of them aren't very happy things, even. I really should start thinking of happy. Happy without the thoughts....
    I just thought I'd like to let you know that I hate you. It's sad, it's true. I hate you so much that it makes me sick to the very pit of my own stomach. You make me want to puke. So sad, so sad it's true. But what's even more sad is that I'm not even talking to you, Blue Book.
    So sad, it's true.

--Alexander

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