...wanting Change Is Step One, But Step

I Don't Want To Hear Music, I Don't Want The Sunrise To Be Pink. The World Is A Liar. Its Ugliness Is Overwhelming; The Scraps Of Beauty Make It Worse.

All The Shitty Stuff People Do To Themselves... It Can All Be The Same Thing, You Know? Just A Way To Drown Out Your Own Voice. To Kill Your Memories Without Having To Kill Yourself.

Writing Isn't Letters On Paper. It's Communication. It's Memory.

It's A Strange Feeling, Being So Utterly Surrounded By Her. Her Life Scent Is On Everything. She's On Me And Under Me And Next To Me. It's As If The Entire Room Is Made Out Of Her.

The Past Is Made Out Of Facts...i Guess The Future Is Just Hope.