Someone wanted to hear from me tonight. And I made the mistake of telling them about a painful childhood memory in which my mother called me "poor little cripple"

So now I suffer from self-pity.

There's one way to cure myself of that habit real fast.

By my calculations, I should have taken my major morphine dose 20 minutes ago. (I need painkillers to sit in my wheelchair, or face searing pain)

I'm haven't taken the dose and I'm not going to take it. My morphine reinforcement should wear off in an hour, but there's no need for that. I'm already hurting impressively and I'm sitting bolt upright.

Not even flinching. This isn't right,but it's the most beautiful thing in the world to happen to me.

I slashed my wrist in Dec and couldn't continue because I wimped out and because it would have left scars that would have been noticed.

I suffer neither problem with this pain. I suffered with it for over a month, it lived with me for 16 hours a day. It doesn't frighten me. And I can do this and it doesn't leave a mark that can been seen.

Best of all, I need no instrument to carry it out. It's built-in naturally. So there's no instrument to take away. I have to take action to stop the pain. If I want to hurt myself (like tonight for instance), I simply have to skip my morphine dosage and sit up.

It's deeply wrong. I know there's something deeply wrong with me now. But I feel the need to punish myself and I can now do so AT WILL.

To supplement the experience, I'm listening to the same song over and over again to torture my mind (someone saved my life tonight by Elton John). I've already had one dose of spiritual reinforcement by Doug and Father Lindsay tonight. I made the mistake of opening my e-mail. I can't let their words work on my mind. They want me to continue this voyage of self-discovery into h*ll and they want me to continue to write to them and they won't accept any apologies for it, no matter how ugly it gets.

I'm not going to let their loving concern break me down.

I'm gonna stay up all night, without morphine. When the TV station goes off the air, I will tune in to the station that makes the most high pitched noise and leave it there all night.

And I'm going to read my
"journals"--meant for my shrinks and for a book someday when I was healed, but right now, I am so disturbed by things that I am blocking things out of my memory. It's time to refresh my memory on everything that's happened in the past month, so I can torture myself with it.

This is one entry that is not going into my "journal". In a few days, it will disappear from my memory, blocked out.

Like it never happened. Glorious.

I probably made a major mistake posting this here, but nothing's gonna happen, no one's gonna know and no one's gonna stop me.

BOYS AND GIRLS: If you're reading this, this is a train to H*ll. Don't get on. Don't do what I'm doing. I'm here because I was on my way to H*ll to begin with.

There is a thing more crippling than cerebral palsy: the prison of your own mind.