[i could pretend that nothing really meant too much.]
you shouldn't mess with me.
i'll ruin everything you are.

i don't sleep anymore. thanks.
i barely slept last week in ny.
everything is the same here.
emptiness.
darkness.
it's starting to get cold. that's the only thing i like.
i put my new blankets on my bed and hug my new pillow.
still, i just lay there with my eyes open. sick to my stomach.
the dreams i have are worthless.
it seems like everything i used to look forward to in life is disappearing.
new york...
what a fucking waste.
i'm sick of the people i know.
i'm sick of strangers who think they know me.
i'm sick of every fucking kid that lives there and thinks they're going to get anywhere.
they're not.
i'm ready to move to philadelphia. i have been.
waiting...
not my thing.
my work is the only escape i have right now.
it's so rare, though.
making music is a chore now.
there's no way to get anything done at home.
i'm suffocating.
i want to get out of here.
lately, though, 'here' is everywhere.
we're all dying.
- posted by angela @ 4:34 PM