"silence like a cancer grows"
<< 11:31 p.m. - Sunday, Nov. 24, 2002 >>
am i exaggerating? I feel like I am. Whenever i'm serious, whenever i really talk, it feels funny. All wrong, overdone. Not real, someone else�s life. I can�t help it. Others have much better reasons for being sad. Mine seem shallow. Of all the hurt and pain in the world I am experiencing a tiny fraction. It�s selfish. I don�t want to rain on someone�s parade, because I hate it when mine are rained on. Maybe I should stay quiet till I can sort things out.

I need to talk. Let my throat open. When I say nothing, my actions are misread. White Paper is worried about me now, when she should have been last year. It felt like nothing then, and now I realize it was bad. I wish I had better perspective. Some foresight for once. Instead of stumbling though the dark cave of my life searching for a fucking light.

I haven�t done much. Made 150 dollars, spent 30 on a pizza and a bowling game. I won the last game with 105 points, hehehe. A pro bowler would laugh at that. No homework in sight. Maybe I�ll stay up and stew. Sounds fun, eh?