:: .:d i c e d:. ::

I'd like to write a poem or prose so nice
The ones that ooze with good advice
The types full of wisdom and truth
The ones that can calm and soothe

Or maybe a verse full of wit
That'll make readers go "That's neat!"
But all I can come up with is this lousy thing
About the things I keep wishing

I should come to terms with it
I really can't write for shit
DAMMIT!

Free Palestine!

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v Saturday, December 20, 2003 v

I shall post what Iwrote last night in the blue book. I think it was after watching the Virgin Suicides and falling asleep reading Tolkien's The Book of Lost Tales

It was so queer. It is still so weird.
Holed up in my room, I never felt so miserable and desolate before. I've always savoured solitude but now it seems that the sound of silence is too defeaning. My raspy breaths, the scratchy sound of the pen on paper just resonate like echoes through a dark tunnel.

I feel abandoned by my friends, the ones I want to be with are carrying on with the lives of their own.

-on another note-
I don't know who to trust anymore. I'm so easily influenced and oh-so gullible. Everyone has streaked the other's face with charcoal scratches and splashed of bright red paint.
I'm just so tired, why do I have to be the one waiting and being let down?

I just want out, to run away from all my fears and problems that pull me down like a stone through the lake and smother me like poisonous fumes.

~wYLdeFiLLy~ 1:57 pm [+]