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why is it that when people repeat kind words, we actually believe them?
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and when they tell you over and over, it hurts when it turns out to not be true.
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(truth doesn't exist)
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tomorrow my metaphysical reason to keep on living will make sense. it doesnt now. at all.
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life makes no sense.
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(post lunch coma).
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i am just happy i will be entitled to the minimun privacy a human being must have.
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how the hell did i turn out myself brought up in this environment? in this town?
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mysterious. i met a girl from church choir yesterday at the bar i was. we used to go to the same church when we were 13 or 14. i dropped out sick from hipocrasy. i turned out lost, with no faith, but happier than if i were blind. and turned out pierced. fun. the girl was quite pierced. and was punk. is that what happens to church girls when they grow up?
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oh July Garland, i just can't walk on the sunny side of the street right now.
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(why did someone ever have to tell me about this site?)
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i need to get back to my journal. paper feels more comfortable than a computer screen.
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grey days drive me insane.
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i must find my subspace.