People say that word all time, like it's something easy, like it's something you fall into and all you have to do is climb out of it.

Mood swing.

That's another term people use. I heard a lot of these words from the doctors that mom sent me to. Mood swing. Like a set of playground swings. I can hear the kids swinging back and forth on the creaky rusty unoiled chains. All you have to do is kick really hard to get clear of the swing.

Get clear of it. I don't think I'll ever get clear of it. I think I've got a depression like the Grand Canyon is a hole in the ground.

No girlfriend--probably never gonna happen. Mom'd be better off without me. I know.

Doomed.

I am doomed.

Funny how much that sounds like damned.

That woman lost her dog, I guess. She keeps walking up and down the street calling "Crumpet! Crumpet!"

What kind of a name for a dog is Crumpet? That sounds like something shove into your mouth, like a donut. Or what you shit out AFTER eating the donut.

I can hear her out there, calling "Crumpet! Crumpet!"

I stuck my head out the window, just far enough to be heard but not enough to be seen. I called out "Crumpet! Crumpet!"

Part of me hopes that Crumpet is nothing but road-kill, just a smear of grape jelly on a burnt English muffin.

Part of me just misses him. Even though I never got to pet him. Even though I would have scared his owner. Even though he probably wouldn't have licked my face.

I hear her out there calling, "Crumpet! Crumpet!"

Poor little dog.

I saw that movie The Omen the other day, and it got me thinking about what has happened to me.

I like going to the movies at night, early in the week, so there isn't a crowd. I go in there with my hoodie up, and then when the lights go down I take it off and watch the faces up there on the screen, hidden in the darkness. I slouch down, so that the tops of my horns are hidden by the back of the chair. Sometimes I listen to the movie, and sometimes I just sit there in the darkness and listen to my own thoughts. I listen to the horns.

I like horror movies. Especially the gruesome ones. Did you see Hostel or Wolf Creek? They were gross, but cool.

I wonder how many parts you can break a person down into. I know I've got a lot of sides, way more than an octagon. I've got the kid side of me that likes to play video games. I've got the mom side of me that likes to do things with her. I've got the pissed-off side of me that hates to listen to anyone.

And then there's that dark side that comes out sometimes. That side that likes to think about what it can do to small dogs, and muggers, and people.

That's sick, isn't it?

I didn't come with an instruction manual.