(no subject)
maybe one day i'll say something that means something to someone.
maybe one day i'll say something profound. something that will change the world.
maybe one day i'll do something incredible. something that will change the world.
maybe one day i'll be someone great. someone who will make a difference.
right now i think i'm just drifting.
i lock myself away in isolation, let butch walker cry out to me about his sorrows.
every time the phone rings i glance over at the caller id, roll my eyes, sigh "no way" and get back to whatever i was doing.
whatever i was doing is obviously nothing.
because no matter how long i sit here, i accomplish nothing.
day after day i sit. and i spend countless hours....sitting.
if you ask me what i've done, i won't tell you. mostly 'cause i don't know. mostly 'cause i did nothing.
i keep having these really bizzare dreams.
i read this terrific short story about a girl who blasted her air conditioner all year round. who wore gloves and jackets and scarves and sweaters even during the summer. when people asked her why, she told them the clothes made her feel like someone was holding her. made her feel less alone.
i think subconsciously that's why i can't sleep when it's warm.
i like the comfort of being enveloped in my blankets.
i don't know. i'm nothing more than a rambling mess right now.
i have so many ideas, so many intentions. but i don't produce, as mr. heller says, day after day after day.
i guess i'm going to go downstairs now and sit.
maybe one day i'll say something profound. something that will change the world.
maybe one day i'll do something incredible. something that will change the world.
maybe one day i'll be someone great. someone who will make a difference.
right now i think i'm just drifting.
i lock myself away in isolation, let butch walker cry out to me about his sorrows.
every time the phone rings i glance over at the caller id, roll my eyes, sigh "no way" and get back to whatever i was doing.
whatever i was doing is obviously nothing.
because no matter how long i sit here, i accomplish nothing.
day after day i sit. and i spend countless hours....sitting.
if you ask me what i've done, i won't tell you. mostly 'cause i don't know. mostly 'cause i did nothing.
i keep having these really bizzare dreams.
i read this terrific short story about a girl who blasted her air conditioner all year round. who wore gloves and jackets and scarves and sweaters even during the summer. when people asked her why, she told them the clothes made her feel like someone was holding her. made her feel less alone.
i think subconsciously that's why i can't sleep when it's warm.
i like the comfort of being enveloped in my blankets.
i don't know. i'm nothing more than a rambling mess right now.
i have so many ideas, so many intentions. but i don't produce, as mr. heller says, day after day after day.
i guess i'm going to go downstairs now and sit.