the hand behind this pen relives a failure everyday
light a match and leave me be
my heart skips a beat each time i think of what is to come....92 hours and 20 minutes and i'll be happy for a few hours. there's no better thought that could cross my mind...well, there is one, but that's a completely different story. im dying inside i can't explain it, but i know this routine is still killing me. hell, i've even gotten into a routine of realizing the routine that is ruining my life; my happiness; my being. this year has been far worse than last; the ties we made last year are flimsy and beginning to fall apart, i can see the future looks desparing. there's not really a choice though, tony has krystal, i have work, mario has homework, and from there we are all screwed. i wish we would drive to sanibel or pine island and just have fun like the good ole days, but i guess i'm the only one who thought that to be fun. i thought myself a good person, but i'm thinking i fell into a trap. what can i say?
i'm confused, especially when it comes to how i feel about anything or anyone. sometimes i wish i knew no one, and others i long for... hell, i don't know what i long for, but i can assure you it's not what i have now. i wish i could write beautifully and sing beautifully like fall out boy. i want to be famous for my words, but i won't. i'm destined for a small town trap. i want to live in a big city where nobody knows my name, and when i die no one will notice for weeks until the smell becomes so putrid they have to break down my door.
i know i'm a depressing person, and you probably don't understand how i can act so copasetic in person, and be so fruitless and misguided when i write in this horrible contraption. believe me, i confuse myself because i am perfectly content with acting how i do in person, but at the same time this is who i am when the lights go down, and the city falls to sleep, and the house becomes silent except for the continuous tapping of my overzealous fingers on this disgusting white keyboard that mocks me with every keystroke. my grammar and sentence structure makes me want to puke, but that's okay because no one is grading this, though, in some situations i'd like it to be. i'd like some daunting voice to come over the speakers and inform me of my typos and horrible spelling and sentence structure. my poor use of commas and every other punctuation mark possible. i love how quickly a short rant turns into an off-topic and ludicrous rant about something quite unnecessary. but, that's just me. i am who i am and obviously i cannot change it. i suppose that is the point i am getting at...or perhaps it is just a new point i'm making. either way, i've nothing left to say so i leave you with yet another journal entry which makes little or no sense and has little or no purpose/bearing on your life. don't mind me.
my heart skips a beat each time i think of what is to come....92 hours and 20 minutes and i'll be happy for a few hours. there's no better thought that could cross my mind...well, there is one, but that's a completely different story. im dying inside i can't explain it, but i know this routine is still killing me. hell, i've even gotten into a routine of realizing the routine that is ruining my life; my happiness; my being. this year has been far worse than last; the ties we made last year are flimsy and beginning to fall apart, i can see the future looks desparing. there's not really a choice though, tony has krystal, i have work, mario has homework, and from there we are all screwed. i wish we would drive to sanibel or pine island and just have fun like the good ole days, but i guess i'm the only one who thought that to be fun. i thought myself a good person, but i'm thinking i fell into a trap. what can i say?
i'm confused, especially when it comes to how i feel about anything or anyone. sometimes i wish i knew no one, and others i long for... hell, i don't know what i long for, but i can assure you it's not what i have now. i wish i could write beautifully and sing beautifully like fall out boy. i want to be famous for my words, but i won't. i'm destined for a small town trap. i want to live in a big city where nobody knows my name, and when i die no one will notice for weeks until the smell becomes so putrid they have to break down my door.
i know i'm a depressing person, and you probably don't understand how i can act so copasetic in person, and be so fruitless and misguided when i write in this horrible contraption. believe me, i confuse myself because i am perfectly content with acting how i do in person, but at the same time this is who i am when the lights go down, and the city falls to sleep, and the house becomes silent except for the continuous tapping of my overzealous fingers on this disgusting white keyboard that mocks me with every keystroke. my grammar and sentence structure makes me want to puke, but that's okay because no one is grading this, though, in some situations i'd like it to be. i'd like some daunting voice to come over the speakers and inform me of my typos and horrible spelling and sentence structure. my poor use of commas and every other punctuation mark possible. i love how quickly a short rant turns into an off-topic and ludicrous rant about something quite unnecessary. but, that's just me. i am who i am and obviously i cannot change it. i suppose that is the point i am getting at...or perhaps it is just a new point i'm making. either way, i've nothing left to say so i leave you with yet another journal entry which makes little or no sense and has little or no purpose/bearing on your life. don't mind me.