something to talk about.
( 07.05.2003 )
my eyes are glazed over with exhaustion. my wrists bear aching cuts of love.
i intended to come here in my room, sit down, and think of could-have's and may-have's while self-pity reaches the ceiling. i imagined myself crying and playing that loud, angry music that helps me fall asleep. but i suppose that due to my lack of physical strength, i momentarily cannot picture myself getting upset over you.
(just forget it)
from A to Z - i bet they just don't care anyway.
