stage: Jul. 06, 2002 (8:11 am)

in my deprived memories cigaretted filled me with poetry and on every exhalation something beautiful came out. but the wind kept changing pushing burning, menthol smoke into my eyes. and anna commented on my shaking, unsure hands. and everything.

and i sort of understand why he likes her. he calls her ditzy, but she sat on the roof of the house with us with out giving in. not that they pressured but some things are always tacit. and i suppose i didn't get high but she is pure. she belongs with alex, and i will always be found cruel, jelous and dirtier below them. or maybe i'm just to the side.

and i feel better. not angry over apathy, or over reacting but really feeling again. i's just not as painful as before. not so dramatic.

not a desperate plea for attention.

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