Well....

The following was written in October 2005.  One of the first documented journal entries still existing from that time.  I was 14 years old.


Main Entry: san·i·ty
Pronunciation: 'sa-n&-tE
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English sanite, from Latin sanitat-, sanitas health, sanity, from sanus healthy, sane
: the quality or state of being sane; especially : soundness or health of mind


It tastes like raw egg yolk.
I know this because I vomited it up so forcefully that it began to gush out of my nose and dribble from my eyes.
Every cell in my brain ejaculated sanity until it settled in the tips of my fingers and began to clot there.
My fingertips turned orange.
My nipples and lips turned an unnatural veiny blue.




Once I peeled the dried orange tears from my cheeks and nostrils and sliced open the tips of my fingers to let the dried, dead, clotted remains of sanity drain out, I went in search of my freely frolicking as said, Sanity.
I went to the diner first.
They sell lots of runny eggs and crimson lead tasting slabs of food.
I got in and asked for all the sanity the could possibly smother me with.
Then I giggled and lit a cigarette, the nerves tensing in the waiter's cheeks.
Give me two eggs, over easy, liquid yolks, peelable whites.