The week from hell is almost over; will be completely over on Sunday. I am having doubts about going to this wake tomorrow. It scares me and I don't know how much good it is going to do me to see her body in a coffin. I think that would kinda tip me off the scales. I remember seeing my pop-pop dead in his coffin and I was only like 12 or something and didn't really understand what the hell was going on. Really weird stuff how they are dressed up all nice, hair done, but they are just fucking cold and dead. It's like some last facade or something, I just don't understand. In one sense I know that anything I say she won't be able to hear anyway, so I'd almost rather talk to a tombstone, alone, and have my last peace. Since her service is so late at night (8pm) I am not too sure she is being buried, but even those cremated have some type of monument don't they? Fucking A. Death really fucking hits me hard. I'm not one of those people that would say, "when your time comes..." Bullshit. I'm not trying to pass on any fucking time soon. And if I do I'll feel fucking ripped off. I say this because both of my grandmothers are 90 and still kicking. The thought of actually dying is not something I can think about rationally, is something that scares the piss out of me. The thought of being smashed up in some car or having some asshole putting a bullet in my head. Since I was little I have had these crazy death scenarios. Very over-active imagination kinda shit. Still today sometimes when I'm driving I think about what would happen if I hit the guardrail and flipped over and got smashed up. They aren't urges at all, I have no desire to hurt myself, my imagination is just fucking insane. At Walmart yesterday and this guy picked up a football in the aisle and I imagined that he fucking threw the ball at the back of the head and knocked me out.

Yeah, I know I sound like a lunatic. My imagination gets me in trouble all the time. Some of it manifests into creativity but a lot of it manifests into anxiety. Not real fun sometimes. Should probably bring this stuff up with my shrink next time I see him. Not something that the drugs would do much about, just might give him some insight to the anxiety. I still think I'd be a great sitcom or cartoon writer. Would come up with some crazy shit that would knock people on their ass. Same with music. I have a zillion names of really catchy song titles, band names, etc. but nothing to do with em. Kinda lame. Maybe one day. I still want to do that whistle and claps band covering punk rock songs. Would be sweeet. Alright, me and my crazy brain are outtie.