[.:remember the future:.]
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Nothing. Anymore.
April 05, 2004 //_ 1:26 PM

A clank of the pen and the list of your ink -- opinions spew from your mind but they go by so fast you can't separate the throughts from facts and you know what you have to say is what matters and what you write is the truth -- or at least that's what you've been taught. Hasnt anyone ever told you you're wrong? You're taking your point of views a bit too far. And to me -- what you have to say does not matter. And to matter you have to be matter to exist and that you do not consist and that you will never be -- to me. You're nothing more than an endless radio of offenses and upsets and you'll never amount to anything more important than what you write with your ball-point pen. So why do you continue? To make that little voice in the back of your head to stop? Then what? Do you rest a little lighter? Do you think a little clearer? Do you breathe a bit slower? -- knowing you've spent all your life as a no body only to write what you see in a tattered notebook while holding it shy of a view -- hoping no one will read the hundreds of pages filled with nothing besides the blue horizons and pink verticies, cause you're nothing but a ghost of a faded memory.

I often wonder what it's like to be someone else, to see what they see and think like they think. Especially the people who are usually left our or the really popular people. Or what about the "nazis" at our school? We all have secrets and I bet they have some as well. I would like to know. Sometimes I get so tired of being who I am that I'd give it all away just to be someone else. But life's not fair and you can't have "what if" when you know "what is" and you can't live when you don't have a heart. It's always something new, but you can't replace heart, or maybe you can? We change clothes, addresses, why not a change of heart? But I grow tired of this life of lies growing like ivy across a desolate fence. A growing fasad for the ages and a mind of impurity. But I guess you're too busy with your jobs and currency to recolect my name -- let alone help me through this time of need. I'll just forget we ever met and when someone asks I'll tell them of foes and friends long-forgotten cause that's all we do, remove and replace faces with people who can benifit ourselves. A life of self-profit. Lost.

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