I read your words. I hope you read mine. I liked what you said, because it's somewhat humerous. You have someone else? Or perhaps a slight interest? And you were never in love with me. I enjoyed it. It cut deep and I love it. But, I need to stop talking to myself. I have been lately because you're too busy. I really am crazy. I'll just end it here.

There’s nothing to write. You don’t feel anything for me anymore. So there’s nothing to write. I go each day trying hard not to think. It’s tempting to go off and daydream. I liked going over each little memory and the details they encompassed. But there’s nothing to write. Each night I come home. Putting off my drive to my house, to my room, to every little thing I denied all day. And it tries to come and grab me. It tries to take control. Sometimes I let it. It’s like I’m going crazy. I can’t breath. I get pains in my chest. I don’t know if it’s from smoking or having too much caffeine. But there’s nothing to write. The nights come faster and the memories stay remembered. It’s all fresh. But all that I want, all I could dream to have, stays far away. It’s unobtainable perhaps. And there’s nothing to write. I could describe my tears. I could describe my hurt. I could describe at night how my empty house echoes with sadness I tell it. I haven’t spoken with you. And I haven’t written. Maybe it is you. Maybe it’s me. But there’s nothing to write. And this is starting to hurt. Knowing there isn’t a thing you want to say, and many things I would scream, it hurts. But there’s nothing to write. So let my monotone way of life, my ongoing struggle, my attempt at being a walking machine, let that become my reality. I no longer wish to think, because there’s nothing to write anyway.

Bored...Played some music with booze today. We've got a few new songs. Hopefully we can make a CD sometime, we have plenty of our own to record. I feel so lazy lately. Oh yeah. And today has sucked really bad...I hope things get better. But could they get worse?

Insecurities of February

It’s a profane night.

It shivers and yells,

obscenities to my ears.

The bite of winter,

the closure to fall,

I cannot bring summer back.

It is gone and the time is now.

Depression blows across the road.

Snow is soon to fall,

and the drifts will consume me.

Shame of my past,

is conceived in regrets.

Nothing could save me now.

Too much thought has brought—

me to this.

Insecurities I wish would fly away!

They bring me no warmth,

and I am feeling blue now.

What makes me question?

I could accept you,

if only I could accept myself.

I am not good like the nights you have.

I cuss and befriend the bitter cold.

I rub my hands together,

and whisper, fuck...

And I am the same.

I am the cold and blown snow.

I bring depression to the houses of New England.

And I yearn to take submissive hold.

I want to take the endurance of this coming winter;

And have it last and go on forever!

So that I could feel warm,

Make this depressive cold stay!

Throw ice on the roads!

Destroy the runways,

Make sure that these insecurities stay.

And allow the month of February,

to never end.

Have my insecurities be welcomed,

By the coldest of months,

to ever be felt,

the insecurities of February.

weird...

I was just thinking today about how everything has gone by so fast. I can remember being a freshmen like it was yesterday. And now, I'm going to be applying for college. It seems so strange that it seems to go by slow during the day, but after a few days it seems like it went so fast. I like this feeling now though. It's November. Which is closer to Febuary. Which is closer to the summer. Which is closer to December 2007. Weird.