brrrr
there must be quite a lot of text built up in the backlog of this journal by now. i feel almost no interest in actually looking through it, though. that's kind of strange; i save everything, right? i keep it all and string it back together into great long truths about my life when i hit an introspective mood. but what would i miss if i'd thrown it away? what am i so afraid really of losing? i've got it all here. there is enough in me, ineradicable, to serve; i don't need these decaying paper memories.
i wrote something earlier to post, something sticking in my throat like an argument. but it doesn't feel right somehow. something i've left out of the thought process, something that feels telling. like irony in the making. so usaid it will remain and safer that way.
something about typing on a purple screen makes me feel like i should watch what i say. it looks like cheap special effects or something. i don't want the wrong thing to be poofed out of the monitor in a cloud of smoke. i've got it pretty good here, no more tests, time for introspection and cut-paper snowflakes, and lots of warm cuddly accounting at my back. it wouldn't do to screw things up now.
i wrote something earlier to post, something sticking in my throat like an argument. but it doesn't feel right somehow. something i've left out of the thought process, something that feels telling. like irony in the making. so usaid it will remain and safer that way.
something about typing on a purple screen makes me feel like i should watch what i say. it looks like cheap special effects or something. i don't want the wrong thing to be poofed out of the monitor in a cloud of smoke. i've got it pretty good here, no more tests, time for introspection and cut-paper snowflakes, and lots of warm cuddly accounting at my back. it wouldn't do to screw things up now.