I don't want to be graphic about it, so I'll just say that it controls my mood like a possesing demon, bringing me down so that death looks so appealing.

It came over me yesterday, after I came home from my interview at Chapters. It went well, but it wasn't the one-on-one kind. There were 7 of us, being asked questions for half an hour, and after I came home, I hibernated in my room, in bed for the rest of the night, feeling the world go a shade grey. I sensed it was that impending time of the month, but I didn't check my underwear yet.

Last night, my monthly visitor came, and so did the cramps. A smile felt too heavy on my face, and my dad (while we were at Wal-Mart getting more cartons of orange juice for 1.94) asked why I seemed so unhappy. I hate when anyone asks what the matter is or questions my depression, so I said I needed coffee, and a smile did make an appearance. Maybe that was what I needed, but the emotional black cloud loomed over me again. The cramps pinched me, reminding me of my feelings; I seriously think that when we as women hide our real feelings, they get stored in our uterus, then once that part of us functions once a month, it lets out our emotions along with the blood, fighting to stay in and get out at the same time.

If I didn't have a diary, I don't know what condition my feelings would be in, and I don't know what kind of person I'd be. I don't even know how connected I am to mine. No matter what kind of diary I possess, no matter how many I fill up in my entire life up to this point, I'll still never know the ins and outs that are me. I don't often refer back to the old ones, and at times I imagine setting them all on fire, dancing around it like I were saying good-bye to the old me I hate, but that's never seen through. Suppose I do die, and someone reads them all, through my horrible chicken-scratch, what will they assess about me? They'll only gather an opinion about me, but never get to know all of me.

I have an audition on Saturday, and I need 2 monologues of mine to fit the physical requirements they're asking for. This is also adding to my depression. I finally get to audition for one of the top theatres in Winnipeg, and I feel unprepared. Sometimes I wonder what my state of mind would be like if I had no desire to be an actor. What the hell else would I want to be, and would I have any desire at all? Would I have gone to Vancouver to pursue acting, would I have still lived in Winnipeg since '92, would I have still worked at the Olive Garden as a busser and tolerated fellow co-worker's accusations of thievery? What kind of life would I have led had I had no desire as an actor? I always wonder about it, and I usually figure it would've been even worse. Would I have discovered acting eventually, or would I have discovered something else?

I'll never know now.

I'm going to boil some water for my hot water bottle and lay it upon my belly to soothe the cramps. Oh yeah, I have a radio audition on Sunday, so my whole weekend is fraught with expectations.