This tab says create.

So here I am. Creating.

While mercy's eyes may not be blue, nor brown, but they very well may be Hazel.

Jericho.

I miss some people. I miss Rowan... where did he go? I miss knowing where the road goes. If nothing else, when you are hopeless you at least know you are hopeless. To have something dangled before you as if to egg you on...

I remember drawing, and talking. I remember 5am snowstorms, and private malone. I remember ballet in the 313.

I mentioned before getting in touch with my destructive side. I've given up on being nice. It's too hard, and everyone is "nice". It is my position that the world needs more assholes.

I remember... so much all at once. And that's my problem. It should be about what is going on now. Homework and stimulants to make it through the day. I walked around an island and had a brainwave. I don't know what I am doing with my life. My body is starting to fall apart, and I'm mostly okay with that. Mental breakdown is looking better and better all the time, although depression sounds pretty sweet too. I miss having a choice, and I miss being able to talk to someone. Back in the day... there were people. And then there was Brandon, but now, there is no one. Another listens but looks through me. And another is too busy with hunger and poverty.

And the question that was asked once before is now answered. I'm back because there is something to say. But there is no ear to hear.

I tried to put a moritorium on boring and uninteresting. Mixed results. I'm really not any better. At all.

Music is some comfort. Messages that I need to hear, they tell me that it is alright. Alone is okay... but that question torments me to no end. I might not have to be alone. Might. I can't become comfortable and resign myself to what may come if I don't know what it is.

urge to become alcoholic, rising.

-CR