paper blade .

Sunday, April 17, 2005
1:42 AM

Refer to the box, thanks! =) *love

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Sometimes when I'm down, I think about you.
Whether you're doing fine, whether you're living life,
Whether you think of me too.
I don't know why I do,
But you seem to be an illusionary comfort.
A virtual belief that I still have you.
I cry my heart to shreds, acknowledging what I've done.
Leaving you questioning
Of the errs that were not your own, but mine.
How stupid of me to try and forget,
Everything given, everything said.
All the affections and exertions, I end to regret.
The thoughts of you render my fingertips,
And only your voice could ease my ears.
But all I was capable of was to close my eyes,
And conceive I was with you.

U knw, there're just some times when you feel that noone around u can b trusted, not even ur family. Ok, well, I found out I cldn't trust mine, save my brother, quite a while ago, but u get the gist. And all the comfort that's left is this individual located only in ur memories and no where else, and there's simply nothing within ur capacity u can do to achieve that feeling of gratification in reality. Well, that's exactly how it is for me.

How I dearly wish to dial anyone's number and divulge everything in his or her home ["home" is metaphorical], but who can I confide? Noone I can currently trust with the deepest sense of security. It's not my misdeed I'm selfish and crabby.

Goodnight.

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