Monday, April 28, 2003
Really, I just really want the truth. And as I suck the last few drops of Mt. Dew out of this Arby's cup, I just want myself to melt, just to turn into this puddle of skin and bone. I get tired of being upright, I get tired of thinking. Fuck, I just get tired, you know? I feel rushed. And I know, God, I know that there is only 9 or so more hours in this day, and I'm wondering what I'm doing with my life, with this day. And I know what I'm going to do. I'm going to explore, I'm going to walk.
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