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Tuesday, Sept. 03, 2002 - to every beginning there is a story, to every story, a beginning.
11:25 pm
blah blah and other such nonsense.

i'm very awake, and there's nothing to do. so i stare at the computer screen. i miss adam, where are you when i need you to talk to, need your trademarkedly cynical views on everything and anything? where are you when i want someone to go to cemetaries with me at midnight?

where are you when it's 11:30 and i'm staring at my cell phone and it doesn't ring and doesn't ring and doesn't ring and doesn't ring. where are you when i need you to still be my friend when so many others have left over time?

i just need a friend right now.

i have mark. he's a wonderful, caring, loving, perfect-for-me guy. i love him. i'm in love with him. but sometimes i just want to talk to someone who's always been there. who's known me from before. and right now mark's not here, he's at home, sleeping. and that's okay. i love him, he's a sleepy bunny and that's okay. mrrrrrp.

i'm amused by the massive email scam on makeout club... i'm going to sleep now.

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If the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall then I think we'd see the beauty then we'd stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges, like a story told between the fault lines and the soil. ~ Bright Eyes - Bowl of Oranges

...or the story is in the soil, keep your ear to the ground.