Mood: trying not to focus on it Getting in the low of inter-system changes, corrections, and a date catches my eye. A number, followed by a feeling as a sigh escapes me. I can't even look at a date without making more out of it than what it really is. There I sit, accompanied, yet again, by the recycled reality that there isn't much worth holding onto anymore. Then I think back to the date in front of my eyes, and instead of changing it to the correct and current one, I put my initials and leave it as 5/13/92--wishful thinking. I fantasized in the notion that the database was really a secret time machine, accessible and noticeable only to the truly hopless in search of feeling. I realize that sitting in the car on my lunch hour, crying about the past and nothing in particular isn't what the average person would do, but I can't help myself. I almost derive this masochistic joy from it. I never wanted to grow up and be left to fend for myself in this unaccepting and vicious world. I resent it. I don't know why it is that when I look back and let myself fully perceive all of the time and people I'll never get back, the complete feeling of loss and depression has my fingers itching to pull a trigger. I'm tired of being stuck here, but I see no way out.
fivethirteenninteytwo
5:52 p.m.//01.23.07
Sound: Architecture in Helsinki -- Imaginary Ordinary
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