Bet you wished I died. Well, me too. I guess the only thing to do now is to write My Chemical Romance-inspired poetry and take lots of pictures of myself looking away from the snapshot, as if I didn't really want to be in the picture but had no choice because the hand attached to the camera happens to be my own.

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Until now, my... amalgamation of emotional drivel has been left dormant. I read the pages with disdain, find myself looking to the man who wrote them as if he, himself, were a foreign entity. But then I have to keep in mind that it wasn't that long ago that I was that man, struggling hopelessly in a race to the apocalypse ( Read more... )