you know, the night before last i sat pondering to the third titan moon Uerosia about the evils of my tortured life. how am i to endure? how am i to be what the tribe of Oata commands me to be? these questions char my pale sensitive skin like the hot coals that reside on Uerosia itself. my private blood sport is the only thing that keeps me afloat ( Read more... )

depression is the fuel that keeps my fire alive when the sun goes down.

what is it like to be one? the idea thrashes about my temples like the drumbeat in a thursday song. what if i could be a jessica simpson? i would have no need for these faulty things such as the butter knife that has become my closest friend in the darkest of hours. jessica does not bleed because jessica does not know what it's like being a crying ( Read more... )

today i cut myself.