My brain is dulled. I finally figured out that I am not bored, just empty.
My guitarest/very close friend, Mike... has reminded me, in such a simple way, that I am not unreachable.
I just don't understand how one can posses so many talents, and not put any to good use.... I'm lazy," he stated oh so rationally.
Nicely put.
My taunting days are still rolled over into haunting nights. And I'm finding the sour rain, taste so bitter sweet. My eye still hurts from J.R.'s finger, but I can see straighter than ever.
I know if I tasted sunshine too much, I'd take it for granted ... but I'm fully aware of how socially retarded I've become. In an essence, I don't care enough to fake it anymore. Who really needs more friends? I'm comforted by the house of whores, who cipher with only what I tell them.
My safe house.
I need more of this.
TO WHOM IT DOESN'T CONCERN:
I once studied your face to see how you spoke, without hearing any of your words. I remember how you felt. I am not crazy. I am just not interested in what you have to say.
I remember seeing the dead leaves on the dirty ground, I never wanted to look up. Nothing was ever enough to make me stare into that gray bleak sky. My footsteps were more interesting. The only insanity left over, is the intelligence to not care about the leaves, nor the sky.
I am of the past, not in it. Our, "remember when," days have passed me by and I am just another seemingness person.
However, this will be my purpose... For being, for wanting, and for doing.
Other than that, to you I should be nothing.
Are you still reading this?
xoxo qui
7:48 p.m. - 2003-01-09
Recent entries:
you have arrived at your destination - 2015-09-03
Little Black Book - 2015-08-03
happiness. - 2015-06-18
Quiet riot. - 2014-01-08
Note to self. - 2014-01-02
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