The Past Is Made Out Of Facts...i

Once Again The Absurdity Of My Inner Thoughts Overwhelms Me, And I Want To Crawl Out Of My Skin, Escape My Ugly, Awkward Flesh And Be A Skeleton, Naked And Anonymous.

I Don't Know... There's Something Kind Of Beautiful About It, Don't You Think? That We Keep Living And Growing Even Though Our World Is A Corpse? That We Keep Coming Back No Matter How Many Of Us Die?

I've Always Been Interested In Writing From The Perspective Of An Outsider.

I Can’t Seem To Make Myself Care About Anything To The Right Or Left Of The Present.

In My Mind I Am Eloquent; I Can Climb Intricate Scaffolds Of Words To Reach The Highest Cathedral Ceilings And Paint My Thoughts. But When I Open My Mouth, Everything Collapses.