I LOVE CRISS ANGEL

In my room, sobbing and sobbing out my inner sadness. How dare he say that! He was about to become my first true love. Oh well. I guess he cannot be. I cannot love someone that is always positive. I cannot. I would be a hypocrite, and I hate hypocrites. They make me so angry. After my sadness had departed from my emotions, I went back in there to watch Criss again. I was thinking about him. There's this gravitational pull between us that I can't leave. I really want him. Yet, I hate him. I can't explain myself why. It's hard for me to comprehend reality, illusion, imagination, or television....

They took me into the rubber room in a straight-jacket. They drugged me to stop screaming and kicking. Leaving me in there to sleep and calm in the silence. I know I'm crazy. I know I'm insane. That's why I'm here. That's why I feel like I don't belong anywhere else. This takes be back to a time when I was little. I used to read Edgar Rice Burroughs Tarzan stories. In a sick, weird, way I related to him. I was a human, but was treated like an animal towards other humans, and they always tried to knock me down and not get to know my inner genius. Like our friend Tarzan for instance knew a lot...

I couldn't sleep that night, so I got out my diary and pen, went outside in the streets of Las Vegas and started writing a new diary entry. I began writing, until I heard screaming. There was a dark corner between two buildings with a brick wall on the farther side of the middle. There was a shadow, and slight grunting. I see a bright flash of a blue light, glowing with intensity and beauty, as if all evil were vanquished right then and there. The light faded and descended into the dark night, as I ran over there to the person. It was a man. I let him put his arm over my shoulder, as we went...