First off: Maya, if you read this then you probably have already laughued at the drunken revelations that i am now pondering.

Second Off: Ivy, you seem in numerous ways to be my dream girl.  Actually, you are my soulmate in myterious ways.  I never wished you to answer because i was afraid.  Now i pray that i didn't turn you off, [because i'm afraid i truly love you]

but that could all be transient and sadly gone by morning, which is what i deserve for being my own , plain and tall.................

Currently Playing Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness By The Smashing Pumpkins killer in me is the killer in you see related

and so the foolish boy, turning into a man wondered: What did the crowd think? and what did he think? How could the horrible secret of a once truthful love be revealed to her, her being his lover...her being his lover only in his dreams!!!

How could he actually play his cards, let his face slip, show some emotions in a world that cannot return anything.  But how could alcohol, and the single but final  rejection, bring this stupid young fool to break a several month precedent and actually create an entry.

What the FUCK do i want? sympathy from fucking cyperspace? Genuine curiosity from one's and zero's? How can type-set personalities make me feel better, and validate my sense of existence in this world..?..

The story leads on with no conclusion, but her face and any face, along with a friend or any friend, steals away the comfort of the uncertainty leaving me lost and helpless.  Without an emotion tangent to what i'm feeling, or a supporter whose animated more than an  anchor.

holy fuckin shit...i think i wrote again.  but who am i? and why am i tipsy.

Hey Wheeze, we kicked the crap out of your school's lacrosse team last friday.  Booyah.

[i'm done].