December 29, 2002
Off goes the end of the year. I can see the tail end of the spiral dangling below me like a trick lifeline. At the end of the rope is more of the same. There is no salvation, no bright yellow happy joyful new beginning. It gets darker and faster with every passing day, the ugliness masked once in awhile with a "good" day, when I feel normal and gregarious. I keep getting worse, depressed upon waking, waiting to die, resisting the idea. Time is running out and I am frozen. And Plath said, "The Devil is in the clock."