I am scared to go to bed. Well, not scared of going to bed, scared of waking up. Every morning I’ve been waking up wheezing like hell and I also think my lungs are bleeding. When I cough up it tastes like blood and I’ve never had that before. Yellow and green and brownish color is supposed to mean an infection. They just gave me another round of antibiotics and the same old shit’s right back again as usual. Same thing with down below. I think some people are immune to antibiotics and also some people’s infections are permanent. It sure has gone on now for 3 years and gets worse each year.

Since I’m so young and so trapped and not one of the very lucky and very few who can quit smoking for good, I wish I’d die. I hate feeling like this and how it’s blocking me from singing without coughing. Even though I’m sure at this day and age I’d never be a singer anyway. I wish they’d just say, “Hey, don’t worry about quitting, which you can’t do, or suffering anymore. You’re gonna die soon of lung cancer or emphysema anyway.”

Later...

I woke up feeling pretty good, thank God.

What’s taking Andy so long to call me back? Maybe he’s mad at me, but it’s not my fault I’ve been busy and moved earlier than we thought. Fran hasn’t called back yet, but that’s easy to understand. He lost my number. I’m not gonna call him 3 or 4 times till he gets it straight. I hope Bob, Kim and Jessie call soon, too. I miss Cassandra and I hope everything’s ok with her.

Next Friday I have an appointment with an asthma doctor on March 4th I’ll see a new therapist named Barbara G. I hate having to start all over again and wonder if she’s good, bad, fat, ugly, pretty or skinny? What matters is her ability to understand me without putting words in my mouth and misjudging me. From the sound of her name, I imagine an older, gray-haired lady. Oh well, that part doesn’t matter even though you’re naturally curious to see the face of the person you’re gonna spill your life story out to.

I can’t believe no one’s knocked on my door yet. If they do, I’m not answering unless they call first.

I’d like to maybe start looking for a good time but now I have two more reasons to hesitate. One is that I don’t have a real bed set up. Two is that my living in a dump is all the more reason to attract losers. I’d have to get ahold of the personals like an Advocate or something. As far as calling a number I got from the CC, I don’t know. My biggest concern, naturally, is sorting through the many butches with the hope of finding an ultra-feminine woman who’s attractive. And mutually attractive to me too, of course, cuz I’m so feminine. It’s one thing to meet someone and talk to them that you know is only gonna be a friend. I can handle that. It’s talking to a potential sex partner that gets tricky. I’m always so on guard and self-conscious. Especially if God forbid she is pretty. I’m always wary of what to say or do and question the things I’ve already done and said. This is my one and only case where I’m so shy rather than just unsure, skeptical and in doubt of someone. Where do I begin? What do I do? Do I just do what I’ve done in the past?

Someone’s fucking knocking on my door! It was Jennifer and I told her I was busy, and from now on I’m not answering my fucking door. I really like her and the other kids, but they’re getting on my nerves. How many times will it take for them to get it? To call me first? 50 more times? I’d rather have my train of thought rudely interrupted by the phone.

As far as going about meeting women, I think I’ll just sit on it for a while. I’d want what I’ve always fantasized about. A gorgeous cop. But not with the way they can abuse the law if they have a beef with you. They use their badge as a weapon to enforce their personal lives to meet their approval. Or the lives of others, if they want to. They can make it better or worse depending on who and what you are. I wouldn’t trust her even though I highly doubt I’d have to think about it or worry about it. As if I’d ever really meet a gorgeous female cop and get her in bed? Yeah, right. Dream on, even though dreaming sure is a hell of a lot of fun. You know me, I’d rather dream before I ever settle. Dreaming’s no crime and I sure as hell don’t feel guilty about it. I can tell fantasy from reality, whether I like it or not.

Later...

I sang 3 songs which were better than any other times I’ve sung since I moved. However, I’m still pretty congested and my chest feels tight and heavy. I’m being very careful and trying to discipline myself with the smokes. I’d like to wake up alive tomorrow too, and not half dead. I’ve upped my meds a little which Dr. Leitch advised me to do a while back. The Theodur makes you wicked spastic, though, and I’m plenty energetic enough.

I let Shadow run around outside again today. He gets to be a real pain in the ass and I can’t trust him. When I want to write, listen to music or watch TV, I don’t want to have to keep jumping up to be sure he’s not destroying anything. When I leash him down, he conveniently thrashes his leash around which is metal and tangles himself up. I want to get him a rope leash which is quiet and hard to tangle as it’s slippery. Then he can trash his litter box which is already one big toy and a way to make a mess. Never have I ever heard of a cat who gets off on me cleaning up after him and hitting him. I hit him and he comes back for more, stands still, lets me do it, has a grin on his face, then gets all lovey-dovey. You’d think that any cat who’s really afraid would behave better and cats aren’t stupid either.