dear pieces that have become you diary,
now that i know things wont fit back together again, i can quit trying to shove them together. the train piercing the quiet morning air reminds me of all the times i tried. trying is hard. when it works, well, that is really something until the headache comes. my mind is blank tonight. i think i must need more sleep. i've thought about just not blogging for a few weeks or months or never again if i want to, but then what kind of whore would i be then? i guess finding satisfaction elsewhere was bound to happen someday.
now that i know things wont fit back together again, i can quit trying to shove them together. the train piercing the quiet morning air reminds me of all the times i tried. trying is hard. when it works, well, that is really something until the headache comes. my mind is blank tonight. i think i must need more sleep. i've thought about just not blogging for a few weeks or months or never again if i want to, but then what kind of whore would i be then? i guess finding satisfaction elsewhere was bound to happen someday.
