Callused but Still Raw
<< 1:33 a.m. - Wednesday, Apr. 28, 2004 >>
Insomniac I�ve become. I absorb all your personas into one quite haphazard and disheveled character. Some picturesque hobo character. I feel like a wanderer. I feel like I should be an ear, when people want to be mine. And I have nothing to say. Nothing is changing. Mom is still intermittedly leaving the house to spend the nights at her friend�s houses. I still can�t get over things.

Whenever the cloudless sky is there I feel like I could let everything else go. Be happy. Utterly blissful.

I hate how night is. Negativity slides in here somewhere, and that�s not fair. I haven�t been unhappy in a while. I haven�t felt lonely either. But, I know you know, I�m always searching for some fault. I bow to you way too much, when was I ever so passive? She told me my eyes plead with you, �Don�t say something mean, please.� True.

Many things to fix.