(no subject)
I feel like this journal is the script to someone else's life. I look back on these (my) entries and can relate to almost none of them.
I'm almost afraid to read them, like realizing you're asleep in the middle of a dream. I'm afraid I'll wake up and discover nothing has changed since then.
Maybe it hasn't.
Less and less I find myself invested here.
Like a crooked mail man, I read snippets of other people's lives. I feel no connection. It's like daytime television; as terrible as it sounds this place makes characters of us all.
Anything worth saying, is just that: worth saying.
I don't think I'll write here again.
Meet me anywhere. We'll talk. I'll enjoy it.
I'm almost afraid to read them, like realizing you're asleep in the middle of a dream. I'm afraid I'll wake up and discover nothing has changed since then.
Maybe it hasn't.
Less and less I find myself invested here.
Like a crooked mail man, I read snippets of other people's lives. I feel no connection. It's like daytime television; as terrible as it sounds this place makes characters of us all.
Anything worth saying, is just that: worth saying.
I don't think I'll write here again.
Meet me anywhere. We'll talk. I'll enjoy it.