Saturday Morning - 3.08 am
Drunk, tired and stinking of cigarette smoke, that's how it is. It's dark out and I can hear a koala in my back garden. The club was packed tonight, the girls hot and the guys pains in the arses. Amongst the blue prison bars of the lights I watched the normal part of society watch me. Diana, the famous author slumming it in the Goth pit at Goth Club.

I watched them, with their shiny eyes and eager smiles. I don't do autographs when I'm drinking, and I don't do them when at the club. This is my little escape from the computer and the world of Amalia.

I know who owns the club, know them quite well and they let me wallow in its depths whenever I'm feeling this way. Maybe you've seen her about, hard to miss really, tall, dark-haired beauty with a smile to melt steel, if not hearts.

It's a little after three, I need a shower, even sitting in my panties writing a rant doesn't push the smell away. I hate cigarettes, but they are a part of the club, the scene. Once the water is running over me, the soap lathered and my skin scrubbed of the stink, only then will I crawl into bed, only then will I give myself the strength to face my dreams.

Just another Wednesday - 3:26 am
I closed the computer down, Amalia has now come face to face with the person who will teach her how to be a protector of humans, while not actually killing them herself. It was a good chapter four, and it only took two bottles of wine. There is a deadline to meet and I must do more writing than drinking, which is a good thing, as it does mess with my medication.

Sarina will be home in an hour and the yellow room is a mess, my notes, bottle and empty chip packets are everywhere; she doesn't really approve of my writing regimen, but it works for me and that is all that really matters.

Robert Stephenson called earlier in the day, book 2 of The Books of Darkness has been started and he needs to talk to me about a few things. The Ta'ibah are strange and I'm not really sure I can help.

I've also completed a new short story for 'Leaves of Blood' due for release at the end of 2008. A productive day where depression was at least held at bay. Not all days are the same.

Whatever - it's just gone 4:00 am
Who gave cops the right to be arseholes anyway? Not that I got anything against them, just one in particular. Gives me a ticket one night and calls around to take me to dinner the next; like I'd go out with him - fat anarchic bastard. Sipping wine in front of the TV isn't helping my mood and the old horror film is just crap with clever shadows.

I'm meant to be insightful, offer a quip on the state of the world. Well, what about my feelings? My emotional state? I haven't had sex for a month, nor has any of my, so called, friends called or dropped by for a chat. I hate lonely.

Crying helps, big crying, throw a few things on the floor kind of weeping. It doesn't change anything, I just feel sadder. It makes me think of my mother; dead now. How I wish things were different.

Well, the movie sucks, I'm too down to be clever and my period's due tomorrow; oh joy. If I didn't feel awful enough already. Think I'll sleep all day, nothing better to do.